


Unleashed

by Annide



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Violence, Drama, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Force-Feeding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kidnapping, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annide/pseuds/Annide
Summary: Martin Whitly has escaped. He is finally free to get back at those who have hurt him. Everyone is anxious for him to be found and locked up again. And worried about what he might be planning to do.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo & Martin Whitly, Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Martin Whitly
Comments: 86
Kudos: 269





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 1x11, which hasn't aired yet, so it likely won't match up.

"I am here at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital from where the serial killer known as The Surgeon has escaped earlier this evening. Two guards were harmed and are currently being treated for severe injuries. We would like to remind everyone that Dr Martin Whitly is a dangerous man who was convicted for the murder of 23 people. If you see this 5'10" middle-aged white man, who was last seen with curly grey hair and a beard, and was wearing a grey cardigan over white scrubs, the authorities advise not to approach him, but to call the police immediately. This was Ainsley Whitly with the latest news update."

Jessica watched the news for one reason and one reason only that evening: to make sure her daughter was alright. She had tried to convince Ainsley to come home so she'd be safe with her, strength in numbers and all that, in case Martin decided to come after them. The news had been reporting the escape all night and she was over it. She didn't think she could take any more of it, but it was her only way to check in with her daughter. Ainsley was apparently too busy reporting what was happening to answer her calls. Jessica could hear police sirens in the background during the report, reminding her that her daughter was standing in the middle of the action, right inside the search perimeter where everyone hoped The Surgeon still was.

It felt scary being alone in this house all by herself, thinking every noise she heard could be Martin. Jessica wished her children would come home and sit with her. Especially Ainsley who was out there, unprotected, exposed. What if something happened to her? What if Martin took her so they could bond, catch up, make up for time lost? Jessica couldn't bear the idea. She was fairly certain he wouldn't actually hurt her, but she couldn't stop thinking about what having a relationship with him had done to Ainsley's brother, how it hurt him to remember what kind of father Martin was to him while he was doing all these awful things.

Malcolm. If there was anyone Martin would go after, it was him. Jessica just knew it. And she wasn't the only one. Gil agreed. And that was why she could spend so much time worrying about Ainsley. Because Malcolm was in good hands. Gil wouldn't let him out of his sight, he would protect him no matter what. She knew he loved him like a son, he wouldn't let anything happen to him. Martin couldn't possibly enter a police precinct and walk out of there still free and with Malcolm, no matter how charming and manipulative he was.

"Ainsley, honey, will you please come home? I am your mother and I worry about you out there. At least return my calls, I am begging you. Your father is a dangerous man, you cannot take this situation lightly. Please, don't try to be brave, don't do what your brother would do. Just come home to me and be safe."

Jessica left yet another message to her daughter, hoping this one would be the one to finally get through to her. Because she was living her worst nightmare and she didn't want to be alone for it all. She needed her children. And if one of them didn't call her back soon, she would have to go find them herself. After all, she knew where they were. Ainsley was at the psychiatric hospital doing live reports, letting everyone know exactly where she was. She was exposed, Martin could easily find her and get to her if he wanted. There was probably no more than a cameraman with her, nothing he couldn't handle. She couldn't leave her like that.

"Gil, thank God you've picked up!" She called the only person she knew could help, would help.

"Jessica, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

She felt touched at the sound of panic and worry in his voice. He cared about her. She had always thought he only liked Malcolm, but he cared about all of them. She had so many regrets about this. All those years of Malcolm hanging out at the Arroyo house, where she was so jealous of them. Gil and Jackie loved Malcolm like their own son, and somehow she was always afraid they were stealing him away from her. That Jackie was trying to replace her.

She could've spent time with them. They would've welcomed her with open arms. She could've gotten to know Jackie better, made a friend to get through all of this with. But she didn't. And it was too late now. Jackie had been gone for years. Jessica hadn't talked to Gil for even longer until Malcolm came back to New York.

"Of course, I am. My children are the problem, like always."

"You don't have to worry about Malcolm, he's right here with me. I'm not letting him go anywhere."

Gil's voice softened, reassured that nothing more had happened. She could almost feel her son's gaze on him, watching his every expression, listening intently on that side of the conversation, trying to piece together the reason for this call. And yet, he didn't pick up his own phone.

"Oh, I know you'll do everything in your power to keep him as safe as possible. But Ainsley! She's there, at the hospital, all alone. And everyone knows it. She's who I'm worried about."

"Malcolm didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? He hasn't been returning any of my calls."

Jessica heard him lower the phone so he wasn't speaking directly into it, turning his attention on someone else, but she could still hear what was happening on the other end. Gil's exasperated tone as he clarified things with Malcolm, and her son's frustrating obliviousness.

"Is that true?"

"Is what true? Gil, I can't hear both sides of the conversation."

"You haven't returned your mother's calls? She's worried sick about you."

Worried sick isn't the expression she would've used, she wouldn't go that far, but she appreciated him slightly exaggerating to get his point across. Sometimes, she almost felt like she wasn't alone, like her children, Malcolm especially, had two parents. It felt good to have someone she could rely on.

"I'm fine, she knows that."

"Why am I even surprised at this point?" Sighing, Gil put the phone back in place. "I'm sorry, Jessica, I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's alright, I make the same mistake sometimes."

"Yeah. So, as I was saying, I sent officers and a patrol car to look after Ainsley. She's not alone, I wouldn't leave her out there in a time like this."

"I can never thank you enough."

"Just doing my job. I also have one stationed in front of your house."

"Oh, I don't think it's necessary, I'm perfectly safe here."

Jessica waved him off even though he couldn't see her, it was a reflex at this point. She was so used to deflecting, she probably did it more than anything else.

"Regardless, I'd rather not take any risks. And Malcolm agrees with me."

"Of course he does. He would want all the protection in the world for Ainsley and me, but has probably been begging you to let him go after his father himself all night."

"You know your son well."

"Yes, well. Thank you again. I hope you catch him soon."

"So do I. Have a nice evening, Jessica."

Jessica hung up and immediately tried Ainsley again. She poured herself a glass of gin as she listened to the phone ring, her second or maybe third she heard the news about Martin. She would not give up until she got an answer. Why didn't her children understand? She was a mother, she worried. All she wanted was to hear their voice, hear them tell her they were fine even though she knew they weren't. Because she wasn't either. If there was one thing she was sure of, is that they needed each other. No one else could understand what they were going through, what they had been through before. They only had each other.

"Mom, stop calling me, I'm working."

Ainsley finally picked up. It was surprisingly silent on that end of the line. Jessica had expected the same sirens in the background as she heard during the report. She wondered what was going on, but knew she'd likely find out the next time her daughter appeared on her tv screen.

"I wouldn't have to keep calling if you bothered to answer, dear."

"Fine, I answered, are you happy now?"

She tried to hide it under an air of exasperation, but Jessica could tell that under everything, under all that composure reserved for live television, her daughter was scared. She could hear the barely noticeable trembling of her voice, the subtle change in her intonation, the way her pitch was slightly higher. Ainsley was tired and uneasy, but, like always, she wouldn't let it show. Not in front of her colleagues, not in front of her audience.

"No, I'm not happy. Ainsley, your father is out there and who knows what he has planned. It's not safe."

"He won't attack me here, on live tv. Besides, there are cops making sure nothing happens to me. Which I assume is your doing?"

"Gil and your brother actually."

"Talking of Malcolm, are you calling him too? I'm pretty sure he's the one dad would want to see right now. He's the one you should spend all your energy worrying about."

"I did call him, but you're the one I have to worry about. Everyone knows where you are, including your father. Malcolm is in the police precinct with Gil and a number of officers. Even if Martin knew where he is, he can't get to him. You're the one in danger."

"What about you? You're alone in a house he knows as well as we do. He could sneak in and attack you without anyone noticing."

Jessica looked around. Ainsley was right, Martin could get in here without the officers in the patrol car outside noticing. He probably wouldn't hurt her, he never had before, but he was a serial killer after all. If he had no issue killing 24 people, even 26 if those guards didn't pull through, there was no telling what he could do to her if he got angry. She had refused to visit him all these years, left him to rot in that hospital, he had a lot to resent her for.

"That's why I want you to come home, Ainsley. We'd be much safer together."

"I have to work. Go to the precinct, be with Malcolm, I'll be fine."

"Ainsley, please."

"Goodbye, mom. Be safe."

Ainsley hung up, leaving Jessica alone with her thoughts again. She finished her drink, thinking maybe she could do like her daughter said and join Malcolm at the precinct. They would be together, maybe team up trying to convince Ainsley to come be with them. And, most importantly, she wouldn't have to sit in this big empty house, all by herself, waiting to hear anything from any of them, wishing for this whole situation to be over. Malcolm would be there for her. Gil would do his best to make her feel better, to convince her they had everything under control, which couldn't possibly be true.

She wouldn't do that. She would be damned if she ever let Martin drive her out of her own house in fear. It was her home. It had been in her family for ages. It was where her children grew up. It was where her happiest memories lived. She didn't want to be anywhere else. She didn't want her children to be anywhere else. She wanted the three of them to be here, at home, together. She wanted them to face what they'd feared all these years together, as a family.

She could still remember Malcolm taking his first steps, stumbling and hitting his forehead on the fireplace. She could remember the panic, and then the relief when Martin checked him out and assured her the boy was fine, only a superficial cut. She could still remember Ainsley taking her first steps and falling into her big brother's arms. She could almost still hear their laughs. Oh, how she'd love to hear them laugh. They had never laughed the same after Martin's arrest. Especially Malcolm. She wished she could get those laughs back. She wished her children could be happy again.

However, her home was also where her worst memories lived. She had spent so much energy trying to counter them and create new happy ones without Martin in the past twenty years, but she wasn't sure it was working at all. No matter what she did, she could never erase any of it from any of their minds. She really wished she could, especially for her son's sake. But everything was solidly engraved in their memory.

The arrest, the way she felt learning her husband who she loved, who she would lay in bed next to every night, who she trusted with their children, was actually a serial killer. The way everything she remembered about him was tainted by that information. How he loved going camping and regularly went alone, because she didn't. How she thought he was cheating because sometimes he didn't come home at night and she couldn't get a hold of him at the hospital. How there would sometimes be blood on his clothes and she just thought he might've had to help a patient before he could change into scrubs. All of these things that had seemed so mundane were now signs, evidence of his secret.

Their life had never been the same after Martin's arrest. Jessica remembered it like it was yesterday. The police officers filling up her house, looking around everywhere. Her little girl so confused by what was going on. Malcolm who had called them, but was now watching his father that he loved, that had always been good to him, be dragged away. And that had only been the beginning. The following months had been the real struggle. Everything changed. They would never be the same people they used to be. They had to adapt to a new family dynamic, one that didn't include a father. They had to try moving on with their lives as if Martin were dead, but he wasn't. They had to grieve his loss as if he were dead, but he was still alive and well. They had to live as if they'd never see him again, when they easily could've visited him in prison. Jessica would never forget these first few months.

\- - - - -

"Today is the day. In a few hours, Dr Martin Whitly will finally face trial. A reminder that Whitly is accused of killing 23 people as the serial killer better known as The Surgeon. He was arrested five months ago after his own son called the police on him. People are already dubbing it the trial of the century. Families of the victims are eagerly hoping for a conviction for the man allegedly responsible for their loved ones' demise. Whitly's family denied to comment."

Jessica turned off the television. She didn't want to hear more about it. She had enough to deal with already. What with the paparazzi outside and her children. It hadn't even been half a year since their father was taken away and already their life was so different.

Ainsley had entered kindergarten and she had been excited all summer. She had also been confused. She had asked regularly where her father was, when he'd be back, and why her brother didn't speak anymore. Earlier this week, her teacher had asked everyone to draw what they would do for Thanksgiving, what they would eat and who would be there. It was a very innocent kindergarten project. But when Ainsley brought back home a drawing that included Martin sitting with them around the turkey, it tugged at Jessica's heart. Her little girl needed her father, she missed him, and she couldn't understand yet what had happened, why he wasn't there.

Malcolm, on the other end, had started fifth grade. The kids were older and more aware of the situation. He'd had friends before, plenty of them, and suddenly he had none. They would call his father a monster, ask him if he'd grow up to be like him, tease him about the fact he called the police to have them take his father away. They would harass him, talk to him incessantly, insult him, even push him, trying to get a reaction from him. And when Malcolm stayed mute, they would laugh at him. The kids were cruel and they only hurt her son more than he already was. He didn't deserve any of it. He didn't deserve to suffer because of what his father had done. Jessica wished she could make it all better, she wished she could take away his pain, but there was nothing she could do.

Right now, her son sat on the carpet in front of the tv, staring at the now dark screen. He hadn't even moved when she turned it off, didn't even react at all. His little sister was talking to him, pulling on his arm, and he didn't seem to notice. He didn't pay her any attention at all. He was frozen in place, trying to process what he'd just heard and seen on the news about his father.

"Mal, come on, come play with me!"

Ainsley pulled and pulled, but her brother wouldn't budge. She let go and went to stand in front of him.

"Moon to Mal, are you there?"

She kneeled on his lap and took his hands in hers. Jessica softened as she watched her daughter be so gentle with her big brother. For a moment, she forgot how easily things can take a turn with children, how impatient they could be. For just a short moment, she thought maybe Ainsley would be their saving grace. A young, innocent child, who would only keep very vague and blurry memories of her father. Unlike them, she kept the sparkle in her eyes. She was still her happy little girl. Just a happy girl with a confusing, sometimes frustrating home life.

"Mal, please. We can play any game you want. Just play with me."

Malcolm briefly looked down at their entwined hands, but didn't say anything. He hadn't said anything for months. He barely ate, barely played with his sister, barely did anything at all. Dr Le Deux said he needed time. But how do you explain that to a five-year-old who just lost her father and is desperate for her brother to spend time with her? How do you explain psychological trauma to a child who is still learning that yellow and blue make green?

"MAAALCOOOOLM!"

Jessica jumped at the sudden scream. Ainsley was hitting her brother's chest repetitively with her little fists, crying and screaming at him. Malcolm stared back, but didn't say anything, didn't really move at all. He simply let her, his face slowly crumbling. At first, Jessica thought Ainsley was actually hurting him, punching him like that, and she almost pulled her away. But the pain didn't come from her fists. Malcolm was sad. He wanted to make her happy, he wanted to find it in himself to play with her, but the news report had paralysed him. He knew all she wanted was to have her brother back and if he could just get a word out, he could make her smile.

His eyes met Jessica's. She could see the pain in them, she could see how hard it was for him to be like this and not know how to fix it. He looked around the room and all he could see were the memories there. The birthdays, the Christmas mornings, the Thanksgivings, and every ordinary day in between. She could see it too. Martin chasing Ainsley around and the little girl laughing so hard Jessica didn't know how she could still breathe. The four of them sitting in front of the Christmas tree throwing discarded wrapping paper at each other. Malcolm asking about the portraits and Martin grabbing both him and Ainsley to sit on his lap while Jessica told them all about them. The police swarming her house, Martin exchanging a few words with Malcolm while Jessica held Ainsley tightly in her arms, begging them to just take him away. The last time they ever were all together.

Malcolm put his arms around his little sister and lifted her up as he stood up himself. She calmed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him strongly. He brought her over to Jessica and handed her to her. She picked up her daughter and wrapped her safely in her arms. Then she watched her son walk away, climb back to his room, likely to hide under the covers, where it would be dark and he couldn't see the memories. Ainsley buried her face in the nook of her mother's neck and started crying.

"Why doesn't he like me anymore?"

"Oh, honey, your brother still loves you very much. He's just too hurt to show it right now. But he'll be okay, we'll make him okay. We will be there for him and help him get better, alright?"

"And then he'll talk again?"

"Yes, we just have to be patient. Give him some time. He'll come back to us."

Jessica got her daughter to bed and made sure she fell asleep. She stayed for a while, watching her sleep peacefully, all worry and confusion gone. She wished her children could always be like this, even when they were awake. She'd settle for Malcolm at least managing that state in his sleep. She walked by his room, where he was hiding under the covers, as she expected, but he wasn't sleeping. She could tell by how calm and steady his breathing was. When he slept, the nightmares made his breathing fast and irregular, sometimes she worried his heart would give out. His screams would wake Ainsley up in the middle of the night. Jessica didn't sleep at night anymore. She couldn't. She sat in the hallway, waiting for her son to run out, ready to catch him and hold him and comfort him when he did. She had time to nap when the children were both at school. But at night, she had to be there for them.

There was one thing she hadn't tried yet. One last option she had wanted to avoid, because it made her uncomfortable. Because it made her feel like if she went there, if she actually had to do that and it worked, it would mean she was a failure as a mother. She knew that wasn't true, she knew anything she did to help her children made her a good parent, a parent who cared about them more than her own feelings, but some part of her still thought asking for help would be like admitting defeat.

She went back downstairs. Her hand shook as she grabbed the receiver. Her hand shook as she dialed the numbers carefully written down on the notepad next to the phone. She almost hung up twice before someone picked up. A woman. She should've expected it and yet she was completely taken aback by it.

"Hello."

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you this late at night. Officer Arroyo told me to call anytime if I needed anything. Is he there?"

"No, I'm sorry, he's working right now." There was a pause. Like she was thinking of something, figuring out who could possibly call them like that. "You must be Mrs Whitly."

"I... Yes, I am. I should call back another time."

Jessica twisted the phone cord in her hand. It surprised her when she saw it tangled in her fingers. She never did that, it drove her crazy when she saw others do it, like they couldn't stay still a few minutes. She was always confident and too sure of herself on the phone to need to fidget with anything. Tonight was different. Tonight she was stepping out of her comfort zone, calling a virtual stranger for help. A stranger who could've died at her husband's hand. A stranger who took the father of her children away for good. It was difficult, it had taken everything in her to actually do it, and now that she had and he wasn't there, she was unsure how to proceed.

"There's no reason for that. I'm Jackie. What do you need? Maybe I can help."

"I really wouldn't want to bother you. I shouldn't have called at all."

"Nonsense. Tell me what's going on."

"Alright, well, I don't know how much Officer Arroyo has told you about our situation-"

"He's told me enough. And you can call him Gil, he won't mind. Please, continue."

"My son still hasn't said a word since, you know. And it's getting really hard for his sister to see him like that. I think, maybe all the memories around the house are making it harder on him. Maybe if he could spend some time somewhere new, somewhere he doesn't have any memory with his father, it could help." Jessica took a deep breath. "Or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe it's still just too soon."

"It sure would be worth a try. A change of scenery for a while certainly can't hurt."

"I don't know what to do anymore. This is a lot harder than anything I ever thought I'd have to do."

"I can't imagine what it must be like ending up alone to care for two children, with everything you've been through. And the press who won't leave you alone. I'd be happy to help. Gil and I can take the kids this weekend."

"They're not exactly the easiest children right now. I wouldn't want to cause you any trouble."

"Oh, don't you worry, we can handle them. You could drop them off Saturday morning and pick them up after dinner. Or they could even spend the night."

"That wouldn't be an imposition? It wouldn't ruin your plans?"

"It wouldn't. And it would give you some time for yourself. You probably didn't get much the past few months. It'd give you a chance to relax and not have to worry so much about your kids for a while."

"Are you sure?"

"It would be our pleasure."

"Alright then. Thank you."

"Oh, and while we're talking, Gil and I meant to ask. What are you doing next Thursday? We would be happy to have you over for Thanksgiving."

"That is a lovely invitation, but I think since it's our first one without Martin, I'd prefer spending it alone with the kids."

"Of course, I understand. See you Saturday, Mrs Whitly."

"Please call me Jessica. And thank you again."

They both hung up. Jessica felt relieved. She wasn't sure it would actually do Malcolm any good, to be away from the house and all the memories of Martin, but at least she was doing something. And she desperately needed some time to herself. She hadn't realised how much until Jackie mentioned it. Some time where she didn't have work to do for some charity or another, where she knew her children were safe and taken care of, and she could truly relax and do something only for herself. It would also be good for Ainsley to spend time outside of school with someone other than her mother or her silent brother.

\- - - - -

When she got to Claremont Psychiatric, all the alarms were blaring, exactly like when she went to do her interview. Except this time she was outside. The place was on complete lockdown. Guards were scouring the grounds. The sounds of police sirens were deafening. She could see cops on foot and in cars locking down a perimeter around the hospital, searching street after street for any clue that could help figure out where Martin Whitly went. Even just a sign indicating the direction he was headed in would do. Ainsley had never seen anything like it before.

It had all happened so quickly. She had received a call less than thirty minutes earlier telling her to get to the hospital to report on a possible patient escape. All they had known was that they couldn't locate one of the patients. By the time she made it there, security had confirmed one of the inmates was no longer inside the building. Only there was she informed that the escapee in question was her father.

She had done her best to keep her composure, to not let it show that fear instantly flooded her entire body. She had grown up hearing how dangerous Martin Whitly was, how terrible the things he'd done had been, and now he was free. She immediately thought of her brother. If their serial killer father had made it outside the search perimeter that was just set up, he would definitely go for Malcolm. His son that he supposedly loved so much, that he called a dozen times a day, that he had a special relationship with. But if he hadn't been quick enough to make it out, then he'd go for his daughter he never had a chance to get to know. Ainsley didn't know which option was worse.

As she sat on the front steps, waiting for the time to do her report, watching Jin set up the camera, she thought about how crazy things had been lately. Ever since Malcolm came back to New York, it seemed there was always something happening. Her family couldn't catch a break. A new serial killer linked to The Surgeon had surfaced, as well as evidence of a 24th victim of Dr Whitly's. Her brother had been kidnapped over the holidays by that same man, who was still at large. Malcolm was barely back on his feet. Their mother was still calling them multiple times a day just to make sure they were fine, safe and not kidnapped. And now their father had escaped? That was insane.

Claremont turned off their alarms as the crisis inside was resolved. There wasn't a patient loose in the halls anymore, and therefore no reason to maintain a lockdown. After all, if anyone could be sure of one thing about Martin Whitly's agenda, it's that it didn't include coming back of his own accord tonight.

Ainsley did her first report, quickly summarising the situation for the audience so that they'd have all the information they needed. She could feel herself trembling, but she knew it was too subtle to show on camera. She hoped she was managing to keep her voice steady as she said the name Whitly first as reference to that escaped serial killer, then to her. It felt like she was exposing her own family drama for all of New York to witness. She kept her professionalism and talked as though she was completely removed from the situation, but it took everything in her not to be overwhelmed by the thought of her father watching. She knew he watched her reports. If he was hiding somewhere, waiting for things to die down a little, waiting for an opportunity to put his plan into action with the least risk of police interference as possible, he would be watching her updates.

"Ainsley, honey, will you please come home? I am your mother and I worry about you out there. At least return my calls, I am begging you. Your father is a dangerous man, you cannot take this situation lightly. Please, don't try to be brave, don't do what your brother would do. Just come home to me and be safe."

Yet another voicemail message left by her mother. She couldn't deal with her right now, hence why she wasn't picking up her phone. She knew Jessica worried. They all did. They all worried for each other more than themselves. Ainsley couldn't stop thinking about Malcolm, about his mental state, about how bad the tremor must be right now as he likely tried convincing a reluctant Gil to let him in on the case. Why did her mother keep calling her? She had to know she was safe. There were people around, there was a patrol car watching over her. The entire city, including Martin Whitly knew where she was, but she wasn't alone.

The message did give her an idea though. Jessica was right. The Surgeon was dangerous. But not for the reasons everyone thought. The public needed to know that. She had to interview his doctor so he could explain to everyone exactly where the danger lied. Because the fact he had a bad temper and had no qualms about killing wasn't what they should worry about, it was only the tip of the iceberg.

She convinced Jin to follow her inside. Their working rapport had been a little awkward ever since he broke up with her, they kept all their conversations purely about work. She could see that he worried about her, he knew the situation had to be difficult, but he wouldn't say anything. It was still too soon for him to ask how she was doing, she wouldn't answer honestly. She'd tell him she was fine, just like she did anyone else. And neither of them was ready for their relationship to be this officially over. So they walked in silence toward Dr Higa's office. He agreed to talk on camera about the real threat that Martin Whitly posed. While Jin set up and the doctor prepared himself, Jessica called again. Ainsley answered this time, if only to make her stop.

Jessica sounded even more worried than in her messages. Ainsley could tell she was scared too. The Whitly trademark, pretending everything was fine when it couldn't be clearer that it wasn't. They only had a short conversation, because Ainsley needed to get back to work, she had to get on the air very soon. She hoped her mother would listen to her, leave the house and go join Malcolm at the precinct. She knew she wouldn't, but she still hoped she would. It wasn't safe to stay alone at the house.

"Ains, we're on in one minute, are you ready?" Jin pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm here. Doctor, we're doing this now."

Dr Higa nodded and they both sat on the couch of his office. Jin did a last minute check-up. He counted down with his fingers and pointed to Ainsley as a red light appeared on the camera. They were now live.

"Good evening, once again. This is Ainsley Whitly and I am still here at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital. Joining me is Dr Higa who has been treating Martin Whitly for the past twenty years. Thank you for accepting to talk with us."

"Anything I can do to help."

"Tell me, Dr Higa, aside from the obvious violent tendencies of The Surgeon, what else should people know about him?"

"I think the most important thing to worry about is the fact that you would expect someone who is responsible for so many deaths to be violent, aggressive and despicable. However, Martin Whitly is none of those things. Yes, he can be, but most of the time he appears very charming. He pulls you in and it is very easy to forget what he is."

"Like when I interviewed him, he made himself appear like a respectable man who saved lives every day through surgery. In every interaction I've had with him, he's presented himself like a concerned father, eager to be involved in his children's lives."

"Exactly. Martin Whitly craves control more than anything. He is very skilled at distorting people's perception of him. He is also manipulative. We also saw a little of that in your interview, the entire lockdown situation was part of his plan. He manipulated a fellow resident into hurting one of you so he could save the day and make himself more sympathetic to viewers."

"And that is how you think he could escape, this is what'll help him evade the law once again?"

"It certainly worked twenty years ago. No one suspected him of the murders until his own son called the police on him. We talked a lot about this over the years. I won't go into details, but that sort of betrayal from a member of the family is the kind of things that stays with you and still stings no matter how much time has passed."

"So, do you believe he'll go after his son? That he'll want revenge for that night?"

A knot formed in Ainsley's throat. All of her worst fears had been confirmed. Up until now, she could still think they were jumping to conclusions. Just because her father had a special relationship with Malcolm didn't mean he would necessarily attack him. After all, he claimed to love him, why would he ever hurt him on purpose? But the doctor made sense, he added weight to all of their worries.

"Maybe not revenge, because he does seem to care about his son. But he will certainly want to confront him in a setting that is within his own control. Something he hasn't had a chance to do from his cell."

"And what does that mean for the general public?"

"Martin Whitly will use all his charm and intelligence to avoid the police and bring his plan, whatever it may be, to fruition. If he needs to, he will kill innocent people to accomplish his goal. People should be very careful and call the police if they have any information."

"Unfortunately, that is all the time we had. Thank you again, Dr Higa, for accepting to talk with us. That was very informative."

The carefully constructed television smile left Ainsley's face as soon as the camera turned off. She thought she would be sick. She desperately needed some air. She left without a word and went back to sit on the steps outside. The cold air on her face helped her calm down. There was no need to panic. Malcolm was safe. He was with Gil, at the precinct. No one could get to him there. If Martin did want a confrontation, he would have to taunt him, he would have to find a way to lure him out. And that could take time.

She sat for a while, listening to all the city noises outside, combined with the manhunt around the hospital. Jin didn't come to find her, he probably guessed she wanted to be alone. He'd leave her be until they needed to do another report. Until then she could watch the events unfold, trying to pretend for a minute that it didn't affect her directly.

Ainsley could hear detectives discussing not far from her. They were taking a little break after talking with the staff. They must've thought their voices would be covered by the police sirens. They were trying to find an explanation for the events of the evening. What could possibly have triggered an escape after twenty years? It didn't make sense. Martin Whitly had been a model prisoner for two decades, why would he run now?

Her father hadn't tried to escape when he was first locked up and Jessica swore no one in the family would ever visit him. He hadn't tried to escape when Malcolm had announced he had applied to Quantico and would have to stop seeing him. He hadn't tried to escape when he was put in solitary. He hadn't tried to escape when Gil told him his son had been kidnapped. So what happened to make him do it tonight?

Ainsley's breath caught in her throat. She had a bad feeling about all of this. Malcolm had been the last one to visit him before the escape. She knew because she had tried to convince him not to go. She thought he already had enough to deal with trying to get passed what John Watkins had done to him without adding their father into the equation. But her brother hadn't listened. He had gone to Claremont the previous afternoon, for the first time in weeks. Malcolm had visited their father with a bruised face and his arm in a brace because his hand was broken. Malcolm had visited him sporting recent injuries caused by a man who was still wandering free out there, and a day later their father had escaped.

Maybe they were wrong. Maybe Malcolm wasn't the one Martin would be going after.

Not right away at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, it's really appreciated!

"Good evening, Ainsley Whitly here. I am talking to you from a junkyard in the Bronx where earlier today, the body of the man referred to as The Junkyard Killer was found. John Watkins, who was wanted for the murder of nearly 20 people, was left in what was still considered a FBI jurisdiction crime scene. His body presented the same injuries Martin Whitly's son suffered when he was kidnapped and held captive by the Junkyard Killer over the holidays. With The Surgeon still in the wind after 11 days, the authorities believe the murder to be retaliation."

Gil turned the volume down and went to stand by the window. He felt a little discouraged. Martin had managed to evade the police force and their now city-wide manhunt for him for almost two weeks. Even worse, he had somehow done what they couldn't and found the other serial killer they were after. The junkyard where John Watkins had committed his murders had FBI agents posted on every entrance 24/7. None of them had been harmed. Martin was bragging. Of course, bringing John back to his own killing grounds meant something. But by putting the body there without being seen, without harming the guards, Martin was showing off. He was proving that he was smarter than them, and he was letting them know he was always a step ahead. He had found their most wanted man and brought him to them without anyone noticing. He was in control. He was the one in charge of this whole situation and there was nothing they could do about it.

"Gil, please."

They were in the conference room. Dani leaned against the table, JT sat in one of the chairs and Malcolm sat across from him, facing Gil. They'd just finished putting together an evidence board with pictures from Dr Whitly's original crimes, details from the case about him, things that were discovered during the trial, information about his relationship to the Junkyard Killer, anything Malcolm could come up with that could help. Bright was trying to convince Gil to let him go to the crime scene at the junkyard, see if he could follow his father's trace, find clues that would've been left for him.

"No, don't even think about going anywhere. I don't want you out of my sight. I want you near me at all times, where you can't do anything stupid."

"Gil, come on, I'm not a child."

"Close enough."

JT snickered. Malcolm turned towards him for a second before bringing his attention back on Gil.

"I can take care of myself. And I keep telling you, he wouldn't hurt me. You saw what he did to the last person who hurt me."

"Maybe he wouldn't physically hurt you, but I can see what seeing him and spending time with him does to you."

"I can find him, I know it. Everything he's done so far has been about me. I need to be out there."

"All the more reason not to let you go. Have you watched your sister's interview with Dr Higa? They rerun it again last night."

Malcolm sighed. He hated the fact that was out there. And Ainsley's network loved it, they had aired it three or four times since the original live report. He hadn't had a minute to himself ever since his father escaped. He had refused to leave his apartment and temporarily move in with one of them, but Gil, Jessica and Ainsley didn't give up. They took turns spending the night at his place, making sure he was safe, and never alone.

"If he wants to get to me, he will. I don't want you or anyone else getting hurt."

"I don't think he'd be reckless enough to try coming into the precinct."

"So, you're just gonna keep me here until he's caught?"

"If that's what it takes to keep you safe, I will."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. They were exaggerating. Martin wouldn't hurt him. He was his son, his legacy. He certainly would try to at least communicate with him, maybe turn him to his side, convince Malcolm to help him. But there was no actual danger, he was safe, no matter what Dr Higa said. He could only imagine what Martin thought of that interview, exposing him and his feelings of being betrayed for everyone to see. He was probably furious. It made him appear weak. It wasn't part of the narrative he wanted to build.

"Is this a good time?" Edrisa entered the room, unsure whether she was interrupting something.

"Edrisa, yes, this is a great time. Tell us what you have."

Malcolm went to her, glad to have a reason to change the subject. If he wouldn't be allowed to go anywhere, he could at least work the case from here. And he was anxious for any information that could confirm Martin to be John's murderer.

"So, as you already know, Watkins suffered all the same injuries that were apparent on you two weeks ago." Her eyes briefly looked down to Malcolm's hand which didn't require a brace anymore, but was still in a cast. "His hand was broken, his face was bruised, his forehead was opened. His ribs were also cracked, so it appeared the injuries from your previous encounter with the Junkyard Killer were also included. All of that happened premortem."

"Well, we expected as much. The point was to put him through everything he put me through, make him feel all the pain he caused me."

"Exactly. Cause of death is suffocation. A foreign object was lodged in the victim's throat, preventing most of the air from reaching his lungs. It would've been slow and painful."

"What kind of foreign object?" JT asked. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know, but he felt like it might be relevant to the case.

"A blue stress ball. Not unlike the one Bright used to carry around when he first started working here. What happened to that, by the way?"

"I lost it."

Edrisa's face illuminated, granting her confused looks from everyone in the room.

"Then I think I may have found it. Your fingerprints were all over this one. I'm guessing you won't be wanting it back?"

"Sorry to interrupt, Edrisa," Dani's voice was uncharacteristically unsteady. It appeared like she was nervous to say whatever she was about to, but simply couldn't ignore it. "But it seems to me, everything you've told us so far is pointing to Malcolm as the prime suspect."

The atmosphere tensed immediately. Gil looked alarmed. JT stared at Malcolm as if he was trying to gauge whether or not he could've done it. Malcolm wasn't surprised at all, he could see everything Dani had noticed and he agreed. From an outsider's point of view, the case did make it look like Malcolm was the killer, like he had gotten revenge on the man who had kidnapped him. The same injuries, the same crime scene where John shot at him, his stress ball, his fingerprints. The evidence was pretty damning. Except for the fact his broken hand made it impossible for Malcolm to have committed the crime.

"Yes, but he didn't do it." Edrisa smiled. "I can prove it. There was a message inserted into the ball."

She took a small piece of paper from her file and handed it to Gil. His eyes went huge as he read it. His face paled and his expression saddened. He looked at Malcolm with so much concern, Dani and JT stood and came closer. When he finally spoke, his voice shook, betraying the tears he stopped from forming.

"It says 'none of this would've happened to Malcolm if he'd been with his actual father'. He's blaming me, and he's not wrong. I should've been there with you, I should've protected you."

"How could you? I didn't tell you where I was going and hung up when you were about to ask, I didn't call for back up even after you made me repeat it, you did everything you could. I'm the one who went after a serial killer on my own and got myself kidnapped. It wasn't your fault."

"Said like that, you do sound dumb." JT said. Malcolm gave him a look of agreement.

"So, it's confirmed then, The Surgeon killed John Watkins, right?"

Malcolm turned his eyes to Dani before he took the piece of paper from Gil. He stared at it briefly, a grave look on his face. They all knew what it meant. He wouldn't even have had to say it, but he did, if only to make it final and undeniable.

"That's my father's handwriting. He did it. He killed the Junkyard Killer for hurting me. It also sounds like he's angry Gil's been a father figure in my life. Makes sense. He wouldn't want to be replaced."

"What that tells me most of all, kid, is we were all right. He wants you with him. And now you're definitely not leaving this room."

"I'll have to leave sometime. Or are you planning on making me miss therapy? Though Dr Le Deux and I could have a whole session about you keeping me hostage in the precinct."

"Don't be smart. We'll all go with you. You're in protective custody from now on."

"Gil, come on, you're overreacting!"

Gil didn't say anything. Malcolm knew there would be no changing his mind. Gil made clear non verbally to Dani and JT that they were to keep an eye on his boy and exited the room. He was still lieutenant and even with The Surgeon loose in the city, he still had other detectives working other cases that he needed to deal with. He also had to coordinate with the FBI, who was still there, finishing up a few things before they could close their case.

"Good news is," Dani said, "your father made a move. That gives us more information about his plans, maybe some clues. Might help us find him."

Malcolm appreciated the effort, but he didn't look any more optimistic. Martin was smart and he probably had been thinking about this for twenty years. Everything he was going to do from now on would have been carefully planned, carefully thought over again and again. There wasn't all that much for him to do even in his luxurious cell. He had plenty of time to make sure there would be no loose thread, nothing left behind to lead the police to him. Whatever Martin did next, they would not be able to stop it. Every possibility, every mistake, every problem, would've been fully explored. There would be contingency plans for everything. There would be no catching him.

However, Dani was right. This murder was their best chance. Martin had been John's mentor, he likely wouldn't have seriously considered killing him until Malcolm was kidnapped. He would've thought of it in passing, of course, because that was who he was, but it wouldn't have been enough for a detailed plan. No, Martin only would've started planning this murder when Gil visited him the day after Christmas to tell him John Watkins had taken Malcolm. He had escaped two weeks later. Probably took most of the following days finding his victim. That was considerably less time to think about everything than he had for what would come next. And he was acting out of anger. That was never a vehicle for good, thought-through decisions. If there was any chance Martin would commit some kind of mistake, it would be in this murder.

"It's the only thing he's done that he hasn't had twenty years to put a plan together for, so, yeah, if this murder doesn't get us anywhere, then we have nothing."

"Guess I should go back to work then." Edrisa said, trying her best to sound as cheerful as usual despite the growing air of pessimism.

\- - - - -

Dani felt uncomfortable in the psychiatrist's waiting room. She felt scrutinized somehow, even though no one else was there. It was just Gil, JT and her, sitting awkwardly and avoiding eye contact. There was just something in the air, like any moment the doctor would come out and see everything wrong with them at a glance. It made no sense, but that's the impression that kind of place always gave her.

She hadn't been to therapy herself in years. She'd gone when she was pulled from undercover, a requirement for any agent before they could go back to work on another case. She'd kept going throughout her recovery, but she stopped once she had been clean for a few months. She had never much liked talking about herself and she was getting the support she needed from NA meetings anyway.

None of them could ever imagine what it must be like for Malcolm, to have been through so much, and now have to relive everything by telling his therapist about it. She knew he needed it and it would help him, but she would never want to be in that situation. He'd barely said a word to them about his time with the Junkyard Killer. They knew what injuries he'd suffered and they knew the withdrawal from his meds had been rough, but that was all in the file. He didn't talk to them about it.

The waiting room was covered in cheery, colourful images. There were toys in the corner. Everything here was created to make children feel more comfortable. She hoped it worked better on them than it did on her.

"Can someone explain to me why we're at a child psychiatrist's office?"

JT broke the silence, asking the question that had also been on Dani's mind ever since they got there. Neither of them had dared ask Malcolm. It seemed like a private issue and their presence was already making him clearly uncomfortable. He had protested before they left the precinct. Tried once more to convince Gil to let him go on his own, that he would be fine, that he wouldn't run off, that there was nothing to worry about. Dani wasn't even sure he could make himself believe it at this point.

"Dr Le Deux has been Bright's doctor since he was a kid. After his father was arrested, he was silent for months and she's the one who got him to talk again. He's comfortable with her, she knows him well. And he refuses to see anyone else."

"Stubborn kid, can't do anything normally, can he?"

They laughed. They hadn't known how much they needed to until they did. It made them feel better, released so much of the tension they'd felt for the past month. They'd been so worried about Malcolm when they realised he'd been taken. And even after they got him back, there was always this dragging feeling inside of them that maybe John Watkins would somehow manage to capture him again. After all, Malcolm had followed him to a dark place on his own and gotten taken down twice already, what would stop it from happening again? They had all felt so guilty that they let him get away. Now that the Junkyard Killer was dead, they still had to wonder how long it would take for Martin to make a move for him. And none of them would rest easy until then.

\- - - - -

There were no windows where he was held, no way to tell if it was night or day. John had brought in a light so it was never dark, but Malcolm had no idea how long he'd been there. Had it been a day? Two? Couldn't have been much more at this point, because he was barely shaking. He had felt the effects of his meds wear off and knew he was in for a hell of a withdrawal if Gil and the team didn't find him soon.

"You know, I watched that interview of your sister's. It was very interesting."

"Was it? I didn't really get a chance to see it."

"You were there. I saw you. I saw your face when she told the entire city about all of your issues. You must be on quite a lot of drugs to deal with that."

Malcolm wasn't sure what to say to that. It was getting harder and harder for him to focus. He hadn't slept since he got there and yet, he was buzzing with the kind of energy that could only come from fear or anxiety. His mind was quickly getting unsettled. He was fighting it as best he could, but he knew he couldn't win. He was on medication for a reason, and being off of it would have worse consequences than their simple lack of effect. It was the worst nightmare he'd never had.

"What's wrong, Malcolm? I'm saving you. If you die pure and repenting of your sins, you might have a chance at heaven."

It made sense now. The holding period, the empty stomachs. John Watkins was putting his victims through detox. So they wouldn't have any drugs in their system when he killed them. And why bother feeding them if he was going to kill them anyway? Hunger added to withdrawal symptoms probably made them more inclined to repent their sins.

"Is that what you did to the others?"

"You're part of my mission now, Malcolm."

\- - - - -

There was so much to talk about and so little time in a session, Dr Le Deux almost didn't know where to start, and Malcolm seemed too overwhelmed to help. She could see how uneasy, how on edge he was. He kept looking back at the door, his mind just as much on the members of his team waiting for him outside as it was on their session. He had never been comfortable coming with someone. Even as a child, Jessica's presence in the waiting room was a distraction for him.

"You must be back on your regular dosage by now, have you had any problems with that?"

"Not really, I'm finally starting to feel like myself again. My heart still starts racing for no reason sometimes and my insomnia's never been worse, but I can tell the meds are working again."

"No more hallucinations?"

"Thankfully, no."

"Do you want to talk more about what happened?"

"I think I scared the team, I feel bad about that."

Malcolm was staring down at his hands. He was sad. Sad and guilty. Because he got kidnapped, went off his meds and was overtaken by withdrawal symptoms. A serial killer took him, hurt him and his biggest concern was the pain it caused everyone else.

"You think you scared them when you went missing or because of the state you were in when they found you?"

His eyes went wide and he looked up at her. They hadn't really discussed it before. It was only their second real session since then. She had seen him briefly at the hospital, but it had mostly been about calming him down and formulating a plan to gradually get him back on his meds.

"When they found me. I still can't remember it clearly, I was out of my mind. I tried to push them away."

Gabrielle had read the file. Malcolm had allowed Gil to send her a copy. When he'd been brought to the hospital, his heart was racing, the doctors had trouble bringing it back to a normal rhythm. He hadn't slept or eaten in days. He had no idea what was real and what wasn't, completely overcome by hallucinations. In their last session, Malcolm told her he broke his hand himself to try to escape, but he felt so sick and was so confused he didn't make it out. John Watkins barely had to do anything to him at all. Depriving him of his meds was enough.

"It wasn't your fault, you were in withdrawal."

"I had no control over myself, it felt like one of my night terrors, except I couldn't wake up."

She tried to reassure him and make him feel less guilty, but she could feel him closing himself off the more they talked about it. A little every session, eventually they might make it through the trauma of his kidnapping.

"And what about your father? You've mentioned growing up you've had nightmares about him escaping. How are you feeling now that it's happening?"

"I'm not sure I know how I feel. Everyone is trying to protect me from him. They're all so sure he'll come after me."

"And you disagree?"

"Even if he did, even if like Dr Higa said he wanted to confront me about what I did all these years ago, he wouldn't hurt me."

"Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself."

Sometimes Malcolm hated her ability to see right through him. He couldn't hide anything from her. She wasn't exactly right, he did believe his father would never cause him irreparable harm, but all of the fear was getting to him. For all he said about being safe and everyone overreacting, he was still worried. What if his father started killing innocent people to get his attention? To lure him out? Malcolm would go to him in a heartbeat if it meant it could save someone from being killed.

"I'm just afraid of what he might do to others trying to get to me. What if he kills someone in an attempt to get me out of the precinct? What if he hurts the people around me because they're standing in his way? I don't want to be responsible for that."

"You wouldn't be. Your father's actions are his and his only. No matter what he does, it is not on you. These people care about you, they want you to be safe."

Malcolm could see she was concerned as well. He knew she had worried about him while he was gone. He knew she'd been angry John Watkins had managed to get away. He hadn't been at the cabin when the team got there. He had probably seen them rescuing Malcolm and turned around.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." He stood and went for the lollipops. "What are the chances of getting kidnapped twice in a month anyway?"

Malcolm smiled, like he was proud of his joke, proud of his attempt to lighten the mood. Gabrielle tried to say more, tried to get him to stay a little longer and talk about the situation more deeply, but he was already leaving. It felt like they barely touched the subject of Martin's escape at all. And she knew why. Malcolm was skilled at avoiding things he didn't want to explore. Like his conflicting feelings towards his father.

\- - - - -

The team had come to Malcolm's apartment where his mother was already waiting for them. Jessica and Gil had never been more on the same page in twenty years. For once, they completely agreed on everything. It felt like this whole situation was helping them put their differences aside. Martin was definitely coming after Malcolm and her son could not be left alone. A police officer needed to have his eyes on him at all times. And not just any one officer that could easily be taken out. There needed to be multiple people staying with Malcolm, sleeping in shifts. They would not let anything happen to him. Especially at the hands of his father.

Dani and JT were sitting at the counter, watching as Gil and Jessica organised the living room into a decent sleeping space. Gil thought the whole team could stay and take turns making sure Malcolm was safe, both from Martin and himself. No one trusted Malcolm to simply stay there. They all agreed he would run off, work the case on his own and get taken if he had the chance. It wouldn't be the first time. Malcolm rolled his eyes when Jessica said her son seemed to have a complete disregard for his own safety, or the feelings of those who loved him.

"Mother, have you by any chance moved my meds?"

"Of course not, I know you need to be able to find them."

Malcolm's brow furrowed as he stared down into an open drawer in the kitchen. He looked around the room, clearly confused, and opened a few more drawers and cabinets. He stood over that first one some more, visibly wracking his brain trying to figure something out. He went to the bathroom, where they heard him look through even more drawers. He searched around his bed next and came back.

"Are you sure? I can't find them anywhere."

"That's impossible, didn't you just refill those?"

"I did. They're gone."

"Maybe you put them somewhere else, you don't have the most reliable memory."

"I checked everywhere. I put them back in the drawer after my morning dose, but it's empty now."

Jessica went to the kitchen and looked in the drawer herself. There was nothing in it, exactly like he said. She proceeded to search for them everywhere else in the apartment, just like he'd done. There was no trace of the bottles anywhere.

"I'll send Adolfo to get you a refill immediately. You're barely back on your feet, you can't skip a dose now."

"I can do it myself. That's not his job."

"It is if I want it to be. You are not getting out of our sight. What if this is a ploy to lure you out?"

"I think you're getting a little paranoid. Besides, anyone trying to get me would be paying enough attention to my current situation to know it would never work."

Jessica was already calling her driver. Her son's meds would be there in half an hour and they wouldn't have to worry. She could see how Malcolm was already on edge just thinking about missing a dose. He didn't tell her much about what happened over the holidays, but he said enough for her to know he suffered more from withdrawal than anything else John Watkins put him through.

There had been several moments while Malcolm was missing during which Jessica hoped he'd somehow manage to inflict some pain back to his kidnapper. When he got back, confused and in pain, she wished John Watkins would've died. She wished he hadn't gotten away, but had gotten a bullet between his eyes. She didn't know how to feel about that now. She couldn't stand the fact she'd shared that thought with Martin. It made her sick. Though she never would've done it herself, and she'd only imagined him shot by police, quick and effective. Martin actually tried to put the man through everything Malcolm had to go through, just to torture him. But he'd failed. No matter how despicable he was, he could never replicate the pain of withdrawal.

"Then a junkie probably took them. We definitely need to upgrade the security here."

"I don't think it was a junkie." Dani said. "The place is too clean for that. Whoever did this would have to either know where the meds were or be careful enough looking for them that it wouldn't show."

"Who would break into this apartment, walk past all of the expensive shit and steal only the meds hidden in a drawer?"

Malcolm's eyes went to JT. He seemed slightly annoyed at the commentary on the things in his apartment, but appeared to have expected something of the sort. He was almost amused by it. Jessica liked seeing her son with his colleagues. She did disapprove of his choice of employment, and did have things to say about his taste in home decor, but at least he had people. She could see how they bonded, how they'd gotten close even in the short time he'd worked with them.

"Someone who had some other motive than getting high." Gil said.

\- - - - -

Eyes turned to Ainsley whenever she walked into the office now. She couldn't stand the scrutiny. Everyone trying to read her face, wanting to see if maybe there was some kind of update on the situation with her father. It probably wouldn't bother her as much if they were doing it out of concern for her. But they didn't care about her. All they wanted was a story. A story that was hers. She had been assigned to cover Martin Whitly's escape, not them. And she wouldn't want any of them reporting on her family drama.

She had just gotten back from the morgue. Dr Tanaka, who knew her brother now and asked about him every time she saw her, had given her the autopsy report on the Junkyard Killer, or at least the part of it she was allowed to release to the press at this time. Now, Ainsley had to go through it and decide how to relay the information to the public. She had to write how she was going to tell the whole city how her father had killed John Watkins after inflicting him all the injuries he'd given her brother. And she would have to say it in a formal, almost detached tone of voice, as though none of it affected her at all.

When she got to her desk, she found it covered mostly in papers. It amazed her how she could leave it clean and empty, and come back an hour later unable to see it. Most of it were files and reports about stories she was working on, some were new assignments she had to go through to figure out which were worth covering, and some were letters from viewers. This time, there were also flowers. She had never received a bigger or more beautiful arrangement before. Curious, she picked up the card to see who it was from.

"Dear Ainsley,

I wanted you to know how much I love your televised reports. I find them very informative. Though they are painting the situation in a very one-sided way. I don't know if your brother ever told you that, but I think your enunciation is impeccable. I couldn't be prouder.

See you soon,

Dad"

She froze. The message itself wasn't concerning, she knew all of that already. There was nothing worrying about her father sending her flowers to show he was proud of her. He probably would have before if Claremont had let him. What really got her heart racing was the 'see you soon'. What did that mean? Was he hoping they'd somehow run into each other or that their family would be reunited? Was it simply a hopeful sentiment, an innocent way to end a note? Or was it a threat?

Martin wouldn't have intended it as a threat. He would think of it more as a promise of a reunion, of finally getting to spend quality father-daughter time. Ainsley was worried. Maybe her fear was coming true. Martin wanted to go after Malcolm. He had even killed for him. But he couldn't. Her brother was safe. Gil and the others weren't letting him out of their sight, they weren't letting him go anywhere alone. So what if their father had decided to go for his other child, the one no one was guarding?

\- - - - -

Gil's phone rang. Everyone turned to him, hoping for some news about Martin. Officers had been working the crime scene at the junkyard all day and Edrisa still hadn't called back with more findings. They were all eagerly awaiting any kind of update that would get them closer to catching him. He tried to keep his face neutral and hide his surprise when he saw who was calling him. Ainsley used his number so little, he didn't know she even still had it. He was sure of one thing though, if she called him directly instead of going through Malcolm, it couldn't be for anything good.

"Lieutenant Arroyo."

"Gil, it's Ainsley."

"Yes, I know, why are you calling me?"

A puzzling look spread across the faces of the others. Gil ignored it and turned so he wouldn't have to worry about them seeing his reaction. As long as he could keep his tone professional.

"My mother and brother are with you, aren't they?"

"Yes, we're at Bright's apartment. We're setting things up to spend the night here and make sure he's safe. You should come by."

"Look, I called you because I'd rather not worry them yet."

Her voice was shaky in a way he'd rarely known it to be. Gil had never been as close to Ainsley as he'd been to Malcolm, but she was usually not easily disturbed. She covered gruesome murders without blinking an eye. She was able to make herself appear calm on live tv less than an hour after discovering a body and being chased by a serial killer. She was good at controlling how she looked and sounded so that none of the emotions she felt could translate on-screen. And yet, now, she failed to do so.

"What happened?"

"He sent me flowers."

"Who... He what?"

"Flowers. At my job. The card's signed 'see you soon, dad'. Do you think that means...?"

She couldn't finish the sentence. He heard her voice fail. He heard the lump in her throat, the effort she was making to hold back tears. She must've been at work still. The sounds in the background were muffled, but every once in a while, likely when the door of whatever room she was in opened, he could hear a lot of people. He visited her there once. Before, he'd thought the precinct was loud, but it was nothing compared to the network's bullpen.

"I don't know. Are you still at the office?"

"Yes, I called you as soon as I saw it."

"Alright, stay there. I'm on my way."

Gil hung up and grabbed his coat.

"I have to go run a possible lead, I'll be back soon. Dani, JT, you're in charge. Bright, no, you can't come with."

Malcolm's face fell. It seemed he'd hoped to go with him, since Gil had been so insistent on never letting him out of his sight. But he would be safer here. He would stay put with his mother, under Dani and JT's protection. Gil could leave and not worry about him too much, the three of them would make sure Malcolm didn't do anything stupid, at least for an hour and then he'd be back. He was only going to look at the card and bring Ainsley back here, maybe drop the whole bouquet off at the precinct.

Jessica looked disappointed. They were supposed to both stay and take care of Malcolm, make sure he was safe. When their eyes met, he could see the question in hers. Why was he going himself? Why not send Dani or JT? He couldn't answer her. He wanted to so badly, but he knew telling her the truth would only worry her further. He wanted to say that this was too important, that Ainsley needed him and he couldn't send anyone else. This was her family, sometimes he felt like it was his too, and it had to be him. He had to be the one to go get Jessica's girl before her father had a chance to. And more than anything, he wanted to spare her any more fear. She had been through enough recently. He didn't want to add onto it until he had to.

Gil stopped in the hallway after he closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. He didn't like hiding things from them. Especially when it came to their family. He didn't know exactly what Jessica was to him, they'd only just started talking again since their boy came home. But Malcolm was like a son to him. Jackie and he never had kids of their own, but they loved and cared for the Whitlys as their own. He would always remember, and be grateful for, Malcolm and Ainsley coming to the funeral, standing on each side of him and wrapping their arms around his shoulders. He stood over the grave for a long time, unable to move away, not wanting to start the rest of his life without Jackie. He hadn't been ready to say goodbye and even then he wasn't. Malcolm and Ainsley stayed with him. They both let their heads lean on his shoulders, and they cried with him. He told them they could go, that he'd meet them back at the house, but they insisted. They didn't want him to be alone. They would always be there for him, and so would he. They were there to support him in his darkest moment, and he would do the same for them now.

He made his way down the stairs and to his car parked upfront. He unlocked the door and looked back up at the loft's window. Of course, he couldn't see any of them, they were probably still in the kitchen, maybe talking through ideas for dinner. He should've suggested grabbing something while he was out. Maybe he'd call them about that once he made it to Ainsley, she'd have an opinion on that too.

Gil opened his car door. He turned briefly before getting in because he felt a presence near him. Too close to be a random passerby. All he saw was curly grey hair before the pain of a blow on the back of his head made him lose his footing. Barely holding on to consciousness, he felt arms wrapping themselves around him, catching him, helping him to the other side of the car. He reached for his gun, but a second blow knocked him out into the passenger seat.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ainsley Whitly with breaking news. We have just learned that Lieutenant Gil Arroyo from NYPD's Major Crimes Division has been reported missing. The authorities have informed us that security camera footage in the street where he was last seen late this afternoon confirmed he was taken alive by an unknown suspect. Lieutenant Arroyo was currently working on The Surgeon's escape, he also arrested Martin Whitly twenty years ago. No more information is available to us at this point as police pursues their investigation."

\- - - - -

It would be any minute now. Everything was set. Every piece was in place. He had taken a little detour from his plan which had cost him some time, but he was back on track now. All of this careful, meticulous planning over the years. It had all come down to this moment. Like a row of dominoes that he'd had to spend years putting in place. He finally got to push the first one and see them fall, one after the other.

Jessica and Malcolm were up in the loft with Gil Arroyo and two other detectives. They hadn't let his boy out of their sight for days. They were so worried something was going to happen to him. That he was going to get kidnapped. He wasn't. There was no need for them to be so afraid. No one was going after Malcolm. No one would take him from them. He would take himself away. But not now. Not yet. Malcolm's domino was farther into the line. It was only the beginning.

Ainsley would be back at the network by now. He'd seen her leave the morgue. He wondered how much information was in that file she carried. And more importantly, how much had been left out. Did she know more than she'd be allowed to reveal to the public? Oh, how he wished he could find out. But that wasn't part of the plan. And the good thing about having a fully formulated plan, with contingencies and back-ups and everything, was that all you had to do was follow it.

He was surprised to see them all at Malcolm's place. He'd thought maybe they'd keep him at the precinct, make him sleep on the couch there. But it made sense. Malcolm had specific needs and disturbing his sleeping routine wouldn't do anyone any good. Jessica probably tried to convince him to come stay at the house with her, but he was stubborn, he would've insisted that he had to be in his own bed, with his own things.

It was crazy what you could do these days. Back in the '90s, it was so much harder to commit crimes. Sure, there were cameras everywhere now that he had to avoid, but back then he couldn't simply walk into a store, buy two disposable cell phones and hide one in an apartment that was honestly not as secured as anyone would've thought. You'd think someone who was married to one of the most notorious serial killers of the 20th century would go overboard with security on buildings she owned, especially the one her own son lived in, but the place was surprisingly easy to break into.

He listened through the second phone as they, oh surprise, found the meds drawer empty. There, was the risky part of the plan where they looked everywhere for Malcolm's pills. Thankfully, no one thought to look in the bird's cage. After all, it would be an odd place for pill bottles to be. It was also not an ideal place to hide a phone. Perfect for it not to be found, but that wretched bird would not shut up. Why did Malcolm get a bird of all things? Why not stick to snakes, a nice silent pet?

Despite the bird making it hard to hear everything they said, he still heard Gil Arroyo's phone ring. He knew it would. He held his breath for a second, making sure that was really who answered, but of course things went just as he'd planned. The cop made it sound like everything was fine and told the others he was leaving. Alone. Because the others needed to stay and make sure Malcolm wouldn't do anything stupid like find his father himself. Which he wouldn't be able to do anyway. Not yet.

He turned the phone off and put it back in his pocket. It was untraceable, so it might come in handy again later. It took a little longer than he expected for Gil Arroyo to come out of the building, but it would be worth the wait. He stood in a dark corner, watching as the man walked to his car and unlocked it. He quickly went to him and hit him in the back of the head. Not enough to knock him out. They were in the street in the middle of the day after all. He had to make it look like his friend felt suddenly sick and he was just helping him into the passenger seat. Then, once Gil was safely seated, he rendered him unconscious. He couldn't risk having a gun pulled at him while he was driving, that wouldn't be safe.

Martin took place in the driver's seat. He took the gun from his passenger, tied his wrists and ankles together with zip ties and secured his seatbelt. Then he drove off before anyone noticed something was wrong. Not that they would, he was very good at this.

They were on the road for at least half an hour before Gil started stirring up. Finally. It was getting boring in there. Road trips were much more fun with another person. And the two of them only ever had one conversation in the past twenty years so they would have plenty to talk about.

"What... Where... You."

"Gil Arroyo, glad you woke up. I find most people are much more interesting when they're awake."

Gil looked around, saw he was tied up and without a weapon. Fear and panic seemed to build in his face, though he somehow managed to keep it restrained. An admirable demonstration of self-control. There was also a hint of relief, which was quite strange, but now wasn't the time to explore that. After a minute, Gil took notice of their surroundings.

"Are we outside of the city?"

"Just made it out. This is a great car by the way."

"They'll know I'm missing, they'll find my car."

"How long do you think _my_ daughter will wait for you before she calls someone? And how long will it take for them to realise you're actually missing? To look at the cameras and see I took you? It will be too late to find the car by then."

"We thought you'd go after Malcolm. He thought you'd go for him."

"Yes, I know. But why take the risk of doing that when I can simply wait for him to come to me on his own? You know he will. And we can wait for him together."

All the relief on Gil's face evaporated at once. How sweet, the man actually thought maybe if he had been kidnapped that meant Malcolm would be left alone. It almost warmed Martin's heart to know someone cared about his son enough that they would rather be hurt themselves than know Malcolm had to suffer more than he already had. Almost. Because he didn't have any sympathy for the man who stole everything from him.

"So what, I'm bait?"

"Oh, you are much more than that. Gil Arroyo, the man who thinks he can be a father to _my_ son. It's about time we spend some quality time together."

"Malcolm needed me. He still does."

"Malcolm already has a father!"

Martin lost his cool. How dared that man overlook him? How dare he imply he was justified in taking his place? The man who came to his house and took him away from his family, now blaming him for not being there? He was the one who shouldn't have been there, he was supposed to die that night, if only Malcolm hadn't gotten in the way. Martin had always been so proud his son was smart, except for that one night. But now wasn't the time to think about all of this. He composed himself and continued.

" _My_ son has been put in danger repetitively because of you."

"I would argue it had more to do with you. John Watkins was _your_ friend."

"John never would've hurt Malcolm if you hadn't corrupted him. They could've worked together, we all could've been friends. But you ruined it."

"I saved Malcolm! The same way he saved me. You broke him and I was there for him while he tried to fix the damage you've caused."

"My son was perfect until you took me from him."

" _He_ made the call. He wanted you taken away. I'm pretty sure that doesn't make you the great dad you make yourself out to be."

"He joined the FBI because of you. And then they crushed him. They built him up, tried to make him like them and when it didn't work, they kicked him out."

"None of this was because of me. They fired him because they thought he had too much in common with you. And I never thought he was a FBI man. I told him even before he applied for Quantico."

"Well, at least one thing we agree on. But the NYPD isn't any better. You put all these law enforcement ideas in his head. And that's what led to his conflict with John."

"You're the reason he was so interested in murder in the first place. But Malcolm is good. He would never kill like you did. He was meant for police work."

"Malcolm was meant to follow in my footsteps, not yours. I'm his father, dammit!"

Martin knocked Gil out with a punch again. He'd had enough of this conversation. They'd have plenty of time to get back to it later anyway. Who knew how long it'd take for Malcolm to join them? He had so much planned for him, for them both. His son thought he could get him arrested then not visit him for a decade and there'd be no consequences? He would soon learn otherwise.

Sometimes he wished he didn't have such anger management issues. Most of the time, he was able to control it, keep it inside and look nice and charming to everyone. Fool them into thinking he was a good, respectable man. He had years of practice, but his anger always eventually came out. Even after all this time working on it at Claremont. It was a problem he'd have to deal with his entire life. Generally, it didn't bother him all that much, it was more in times like this, where he knocked out his road trip partner and was left to entertain himself again. All alone with no one to talk to. Just like being locked up. He hated it.

A ringtone broke the silence after a few minutes that felt atrociously long. Martin had spent twenty years locked in a cell, by himself, with nothing but books and a few medical consultations to distract him, and never had he been more bored than in those few minutes. He reached into Gil's pocket. It was quite hard to remove a phone from someone else's pocket while driving, and the position of the seatbelt only added to the challenge. But no matter, whoever was calling him seemed pretty patient, or just desperate to speak with him.

\- - - - -

Gil had said he was on his way. That was forty-five minutes ago. Even with traffic, he should've been there by now. Something had to be wrong. She knew it. She had checked the traffic reports a few minutes ago, there was nothing between Malcolm's apartment and the network that could explain a delay. But then again, maybe Gil had just left a little later. Maybe Jessica had tried to convince him to stay. Maybe Malcolm had questioned him about where he was going, sensing something was up and wanting to figure it out. There were a million possible explanations. Not one of which made sense because he would've called her back to tell her he'd be late.

Ainsley couldn't wait anymore. She couldn't sit at her desk, with the smell of her father's flowers overwhelming her, looking at everyone else going on with their day as if nothing was out of the ordinary, waiting for Gil to get there and look at this card. She picked up her phone and went back to the bathroom, the only place quiet enough to hear anything properly. She dialed and waited. It took a while.

Every time it rang, she grew more anxious. Gil wasn't the kind of person who left more than a ring or two before answering. She hadn't called him in a long time, but she still remembered that about him. From time spent with him, and time spent with her brother. Because of his job, Gil received many important phone calls, he had to answer right away. Sometimes, there was someone's life in the balance. He would never let his phone ring for that long. Unless he was physically unable to get it.

The ringing stopped as Gil finally picked up and relief washed over her. But only for a second. Because the voice on the other end wasn't the one she was expecting. It was familiar in a way that sent chills down her spine.

"Ainsley, how wonderful to speak to you!"

"Dr Whitly?"

"Honey, I've told you before, please call me dad."

"Where's Gil? Why do you have his phone?"

"He's right here with me. Don't worry, I'm not a thief."

"Is he... Did you kill him?"

Ainsley hated hearing the hurt in her own voice. She hated how vulnerable she sounded as she spoke to him. She would've wanted to make herself seem strong, like nothing he did could get to her, but she was so worried.

"No, I didn't kill him! You think I can't spend one hour with the man without ending his life? He's not that annoying."

"Can I speak to him then?"

"No, I'm sorry, honey. He's taking a little nap right now. He really isn't the most fun person to go on a drive with, I'll tell you that. But I promise you, he's alive."

"For how long? What are you gonna do to him?"

"We're gonna have fun, spend some quality time together. I want to get to know the man who's playing father to my children."

"Please, don't hurt him."

"I wish I could tell you I won't, but I don't feel like lying to you right now."

Ainsley didn't know what to say, or what to do. She didn't know Martin well enough to have any idea how she could change his mind, how she could help Gil. She wished her brother were here. He would know exactly what to say. He had spent years studying Martin and his crimes, he understood him. She barely knew anything about him. Her mother had shielded her from all of it. She felt entirely unprepared for what was happening.

"Oh, Ainsley, I meant to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"Yes, for your help. I never would've been able to grab the man if you hadn't called him and lured him out. It was great work, thank you."

"I didn't... I..."

"Yes, well, I wish we could talk some more, but I have to go now. Goodbye, Ainsley."

The call ended leaving her feeling tainted. He had used her to get to Gil. She had never been in danger, she was the bait. It was all her fault. Gil was safe, he was with the others, nothing could've happened to him. And then she called him, because she was afraid of flowers. She played right into her father's hand and got Gil kidnapped, possibly killed. She felt awful. More than that, when Malcolm would inevitably go after Martin to try and save Gil, only to get taken himself, it would also be her fault. She had made everything worse.

She wasn't sure what to do. She knew she had to tell someone what happened, but normally Gil would be the one she'd turn to. She couldn't simply call 911. What would she even say? 'Yeah, hi, I got my friend kidnapped by my serial killer father.' It wasn't like they could do anything. There was an information hotline set up, but screening her as a reliable source would take too long. She had to call the team directly, it was the best option. But also what she'd been dreading doing.

She didn't have the others' numbers which meant she had to call Malcolm. She took a few deep breaths before she dialed. She did her best to make herself sound calm and composed. She tried very hard to stop her voice from shaking. She didn't want him to realise anything was wrong. Not yet. Because she didn't know how she would ever get the words out and saying it to her brother would be so much harder.

"Hey, I was hoping you'd call. We're all at my place, you should come by."

"I know. Mal, could I talk to one of the detectives that are with you?"

"Why don't you call Gil?"

She took another deep breath. She had to stop herself from crying. Malcolm would never leave her alone if he heard her cry. He might even rush over here to comfort her and make sure she was alright. Maybe that was the plan. Who knew? She had tried to listen to background noises while she talked to her father, but other than the engine of a car, there was nothing.

"I... They're the ones I need right now, please."

"What's wrong, Ains?"

"Will you just pass the phone to one of them?"

She heard how rude that was and felt a little bad. He didn't deserve that. Though he was getting on her nerves. She knew he would try to get her to tell him what was happening instead of letting her talk to the others, but just this once, she'd hoped he wouldn't be so annoyingly curious.

"I could put you on speaker then you'd get all of us."

"No, Malcolm, either pass the phone to either of them or tell them to meet me at the precinct."

"Gil went out and told them not to let me out of their sight, if they meet you there, they'll bring me along."

"And you can sit in another room while we talk, there are windows everywhere for them to check on you."

"Alright, we'll meet you there."

"Be quick, it's important."

Ainsley hesitated for a minute after they hung up, what would Malcolm think when she showed up there with an enormous flower arrangement? But she had no choice. There could be some kind of clue on it. Probably not, but those detectives would want to see it, just like Gil had. Carrying both her bag and the flowers down and into a cab was a struggle, but if it could get them anything that would help rescue Gil, it was worth it.

\- - - - -

"Alright, I tracked down the florist. The flowers were paid for in cash, obviously, but they're sending over the video of the transaction from their security camera. Maybe we'll get something from that."

Even as he said it, JT didn't feel confident. Martin Whitly had killed 23 people before getting arrested, and he wouldn't have been caught if his own son hadn't discovered what he was. There was no way anything on that tape would lead to finding him. But they had to keep up hope. Gil needed them and they had to run every possible lead.

Ainsley was pretty shaken. He'd tried to comfort her, so did Dani, and make sure she understood none of this was her fault, but it was no use. Just like Gil and her brother, she seemed prone to take the blame on herself. Malcolm had finally convinced her a few minutes ago to go back to his apartment so their mother wouldn't be alone. Which was a good thing because Colette Swanson was headed their way. She had side-eyed them ever since they'd made it to the precinct. Maybe she'd been waiting for Ainsley to leave, though it didn't sound like her.

"What are you still doing here?" Dani asked. "Isn't your case over now that your suspect was killed by someone who did your job much better than you could?"

Colette ignored the snap on her competence.

"Gil's bosses have asked me to stay and help you with the investigation, what have you got so far?"

"You're willing to work with me now?"

Colette laughed as Malcolm stared up at her from where he was sitting next to Dani. For a smart guy, Malcolm could ask some pretty stupid questions. Of course she wasn't. Even after they found him in the cabin where the Junkyard Killer kept him, too confused to realise what was happening, she still didn't trust him.

"You know what, let's start with you. You're our best lead, come with me."

She grabbed Malcolm's arm and pulled him to the interrogation room. JT and Dani followed and took place on the other side of the glass. Malcolm couldn't see them, but he looked straight at them as Colette handcuffed his good hand to the table.

"Is this really necessary, Colette?"

Malcolm turned his eyes to her and lifted his hand slightly above the table, just enough to pull on the restraint a little.

"I think it is. I don't want you avoiding my questions by walking away."

"I'm not going anywhere, cuffs or not."

"Well, considering Lieutenant Arroyo and his detectives haven't been letting you out of their sight for days because they're convinced you'll run off, I'm not inclined to believe that."

Malcolm threw another look in JT and Dani's direction. His face always spoke mountains. JT didn't think he'd ever seen someone so expressive, all you had to do was pay attention and you could get a general idea of what Malcolm was feeling. He probably hated that you could see right through his façade simply by looking into his eyes. And it was much easier to do while he couldn't stare back.

Right now, Malcolm looked trapped. Like he'd rather be anywhere but there, like it was a huge waste of time when they didn't have any to spare. JT shared those feelings. They should've been looking for Gil, running leads, looking at security footage again. Maybe they missed something. They should've been looking at the city's security camera feeds and looking at maps, trying to figure out where Martin might've driven off to. Anything but this. What did Colette think she'd get out of Malcolm anyway? He didn't know anything or he would've told them. Gil was like a father to him, he wouldn't take any chances.

"You're the last one who visited The Surgeon before he escaped, I'm surprised no one thought to interrogate you yet."

"Because I already told Gil. He did not say or do anything that would lead me to believe he'd escape the next day."

"What did you talk about?"

"Seriously?" Malcolm sighed and rolled his eyes. He looked exhausted, more than usual. He continued in a tone filled with annoyance and boredom. "He asked how I was, showed concern about my injuries. I told him I was fine, he didn't believe me because I was a bit shaky. I explained that I was forced off my meds, but slowly getting back to normal. We talked about my childhood, he evaded my questions. It was a very normal visit."

"And why exactly did you visit a serial killer only a week after being rescued from another? Seems like something a normal person would want to avoid."

"Normal people don't have a serial killer for a father."

"Answer me, Bright."

"John Watkins told me things about a camping trip we went on together when I was a kid and I needed to talk to my father about it."

"And what happened on that trip exactly?"

"My personal life and memories have nothing to do with this."

"Your father killed the man who kidnapped you and took the NYPD lieutenant who arrested him after you called the police. I think your personal life has everything to do with this."

Malcolm was clearly uncomfortable. The tremor was back. JT saw him instinctively reach for it with his other hand, to grab it and cover it like he always did, but the cast made it impossible. His thumb was covered and the rest of his fingers could barely move. He was left to stare at his hand as it shook and rattled the handcuff.

"Please, you know this is irrelevant."

Malcolm's eyes, almost pleading now, were back on Colette. The sound of the metal against the table pulled her attention to the tremor and she seemed to realise it was enough.

"Do you have any idea where your father could be? Did he ever say anything to you about what he'd do if he ever escaped?"

"No. I've been trying to think of something like that for almost two weeks now. I would've told Gil if there was anything."

"Would you?"

"Yes, I would. I'm not my father, Colette, I don't want to be like him. Are we done now? Or are you gonna find something to charge me with?"

"Alright, you're free to go. Let me just try and remember where I put the keys."

Malcolm sighed. Colette made a show to look for the keys to the handcuffs everywhere. JT followed Dani out. They could wait for her to bring him back to the conference room. They had work to do and they'd lost enough time as it was. JT sat in front of his laptop. He watched the video of Martin abducting Gil again, paying closer attention to details. Then, he went through the city's camera feeds. Thankfully, Gil's car stood out and was relatively easy to follow. Martin didn't try to evade them, he made no effort to get the car out of sight. He knew they'd be looking for him soon enough and drove straight out of the city, where JT lost him.

Dani looked up at him and shook her head. She got nothing more than a confirmation of Martin's identity from the video of the flower shop. At least he hadn't changed his appearance, there was still a chance someone might see him and call the tip hotline they'd set up when he first escaped. JT put in a request to get security camera feeds for roads and cities around New York, but he didn't have much hope. There were a lot less and Martin would be careful to make it impossible for them to follow his trace that far.

When Dani spotted Colette outside, they both stood and went to her. Several minutes had passed, Malcolm should've been back by now, but he wasn't with her. JT started to think they should never have left him with Colette, they should've always kept an eye on him, like Gil had told them to.

"Where's Bright?" Dani asked.

"Still in the interrogation room. I told him I had to get the keys from my desk, to mess with him a bit."

"You left him alone?"

JT and Dani rushed toward the interrogation room, Colette behind them. They would never forgive themselves if they'd lost him after Gil had been so insistent they don't let him out of their sight. On the bright side, Jessica would probably kill them before Gil ever found out.

"One of his hands is broken, the other is cuffed to the table, he's not going anywhere."

"Really?"

JT said as they reached the now empty room. The cuffs lay open, hanging over the side of the table which was littered with pieces of plaster.

"How did he even get out of those cuffs?"

"He's been keeping a bobby pin hidden in his pocket since he was kidnapped because John Watkins kept him handcuffed." JT explained to everyone's surprise. "What? I heard him ask his sister for an extra one the other day."

"And he had to break his cast to use his hand."

Dani's expression was full of blame as she stared at Colette. It would've been incredibly painful to use his hand for something that required precision and dexterity like this. Malcolm tried to hide it, but JT could see his hand hurt him even with the cast. Unsupported, it would bother him a lot more.

"Neither of you think it's suspicious that the second he was alone he went through great length to get away? I was only gone a few minutes."

"Can you blame him?" Dani said. "You've been treating him like a suspect ever since you got here."

"He's been wanting to go look at the crime scene at the junkyard and talk to some people at Claremont, that's probably all he's doing. We can split up. Hopefully, we'll find him before Martin does."

"Or he went to join his father and they'll kill lieutenant Arroyo together."

JT couldn't believe what Colette was saying. He had no idea what had happened between her and Malcolm at Quantico, but clearly she didn't know him like they did. And he himself didn't know the guy all that much. Enough to know she was wrong. She had decided that about him, had preconceived ideas of who he would be, and she was sticking to it, no matter what, no matter how nice and committed to helping others he was.

"Bright would never kill anyone. He's weird, but he's not a murderer."

"Not yet maybe, but it's only a matter of time."

"He's not like that, that will never be him. He would die to save someone. He almost did to save Dani and he had barely just met her."

"You know what," Dani interrupted, to JT's relief, "now isn't the time to argue about this. We need to find Bright. JT, you can take Claremont. Colette and I will go to the junkyard. If he goes to both, we still have time to catch up with him."

JT was surprised to learn that Dr Higa, Martin's psychiatrist, was still at Claremont even as the sun began to set. The receptionist gave him directions to his office and he thanked her. The place was eerily silent at this time of night. Patients were all back in their cells. The staff was cleaning up, finishing up some paperwork or getting things ready for the next day. He walked past Martin's empty cell and stopped at the first door to look. He could see the door at the end of the small hallway left ajar. It seemed wrong.

The whole team had been there a little over a week ago, only a day or two after the escape. JT had never seen it before, neither had Dani, and they were both taken aback by how spacious and nice it was. It actually had a carpet covering the floor. There was a television outside that Martin could watch when the guard brought it in, while he was tied to the wall, safely on the other side of the red line. Malcolm knew the place well enough by then and he was of great help while they looked through Martin's personal effects, trying to find any kind of clue of his plan or his whereabouts. They'd, of course, found nothing.

The loudness of his phone's vibration in the quiet hospital made him jump back to the present. It was Dani. She was calling to let him know there was no sign of Malcolm at the junkyard. No one had seen him. They would still stay there a while, in case he showed up. It would also give them time to go over the crime scene one more time, on the off chance that they had missed something.

The door to the office was open, but JT knocked anyway, if only to make his presence known. Dr Higa didn't seem surprised to see him. He actually looked like he'd been expecting him, or maybe not him specifically, but certainly one of his team. JT introduced himself. Dr Higa welcomed him in and told him Malcolm had come by before JT even had a chance to ask.

"I told him Martin never talked to me about a possible escape. Whenever he would dream of being free one day, he made sure to say he knew it was impossible. Martin mostly talks about himself, his exploits as a surgeon and his family. He keeps fond memories of the time he spent with each of them. He also told me stories of a life he imagined for them if he had never gotten arrested."

"So, nothing that could help him find his father?"

"I don't think so. If I may, what exactly is going on? Malcolm was holding his hand, it looked like it was bothering him quite a bit. And there were still traces of plaster on it. Did he punch a wall or something? He looked in a hurry, and he said detectives might come looking for him."

"His hand is broken, he destroyed the cast to free his hand. He's going quickly because he knows we don't want him wandering around by himself. It's not safe. You said yourself, his father will want to have a face-to-face with him."

"Well, he just left a few minutes ago, he can't have gone far."

JT thanked him. He got security to pull the video from earlier. It showed Malcolm leaving shortly before JT arrived. He called Dani and they met back at the precinct. Street cameras outside of Claremont had caught Malcolm getting into a taxi. The image was clear enough for them to make out the number. Dani called the company who eventually got them the driver's itinerary for the night. After leaving Claremont, the taxi had gone directly to the cabin where they'd found Malcolm. JT's heart sank. Why would he go back where the Junkyard Killer held him? He most of all didn't want to know what Colette was thinking as the three of them climbed into his car.

Things only got worse from there. They made it to the cabin. There was no sign of Malcolm, or the FBI agent who was supposed to be guarding the place. JT and Dani exchanged a worried look. They followed Colette up the stairs and inside. She almost tripped over the body in the kitchen before she flipped the light switch on. Dani leaned down to take the agent's pulse, he was dead.

"Malcolm Bright is the last person we know of to come here. Still think your friend is innocent?"

"I'm sure there's an explanation."

"I've heard you say that before."

"Because Dani's right. Martin must've been here waiting for Bright."

"Yes, because they're working together. Why else would he not have called us when he saw this?"

That was the last straw for Dani, she pushed Colette against the wall.

"Stop it! Bright is good. He would never do this."

"Get your hands off me!"

JT gently put his hand over Dani's shoulder. She looked back at him. It seemed to help her calm down and she let go of Colette.

"Let's not make any assumptions until we have all the fact, alright?"

JT stared at each of them in turn until they both nodded in agreement. It had been a long stressful day. From finding the body of the Junkyard Killer this morning to Gil being abducted by the Surgeon in the afternoon to Malcolm disappearing on them, it seemed like they couldn't catch a break. They were all on edge and it was affecting both their judgement and their ability to work together. They combed every inch of this place, but there was nothing more than an abandoned flashlight, no trace of Malcolm or where he might have gone. JT saw how tired they all were and suggested they go home. Dani and Colette protested, but he convinced them. They needed to get some sleep. They weren't going to find Malcolm or Gil tonight. And they couldn't keep going like this. They could barely see anything outside in the dark. They needed to get some rest, it would be easier to think and figure all of this out in the morning.

\- - - - -

There he was. His boy. Finally. After all this time. All this waiting for the right moment. Martin was finally about to be reunited with his son. He had missed him these last two weeks. But that was all in the past. They would get plenty of quality father-son time together now. He watched as Malcolm paid the taxi driver and waited for him to leave before heading toward the cabin, flashlight in hand. Martin made sure to be out of sight. It was a surprise. His son couldn't see him yet. Malcolm climbed the stairs at an excruciatingly slow pace. He looked hesitant to go inside. Maybe because of the time he'd spent here over the holidays.

The door opened and Martin backed further into the corner. Just to be extra certain he wouldn't be seen. If he was, there would be an argument and they didn't have that kind of time. Malcolm stopped as he saw the FBI agent lying down on the kitchen floor. About time. He leaned down to check the man's pulse, setting the flashlight on a nearby chair. His tremor made it difficult and he tried to do it with his left hand, but the pain made him wince. Where was his cast? Malcolm had a cast on his hand last time he saw him, said his hand was broken. There was no way it was off by now. Martin looked more closely as he approached. Malcolm's thumb seemed limp and it was clear he couldn't hold his hand straight and steady for very long. What had he done? Why did his son always get hurt?

Malcolm finally managed to control the tremor and confirm the agent was in fact dead. A look a worry started to fill his face as he could feel that the body was still warm, not alive warm, but not cold enough for too much time to have passed since he was killed. As he started to rise up, Martin put an arm around him and pushed a rag of chloroform in his face. Malcolm's eyes widened in shock and he struggled to get himself free, but it was no use, he lost consciousness and his entire body went limp in his father's arms.

Martin missed the years when Malcolm was little and he would have to carry him up to his room because he fell asleep on the couch or in the car on the way home from somewhere. Jessica would take Ainsley and the two of them would climb the stairs hand in hand with their sleeping children. They were so happy, so content with their lives. He hated that it had to stop. And more than anything, he hated that his own son was the reason for it. He never would've been caught. He knew it. If only Malcolm hadn't called the cops.

It was lucky Malcolm was small, quite easy to carry out. Martin was carefully when handling him not to touch his injured hand. They would have to deal with that later. He propped him up on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and walked out through the back door. There was no time to waste. The news would start soon and surely Ainsley would be on it, announcing Gil Arroyo's abduction, completely unaware that her brother was about to go missing as well. Martin didn't like causing her pain, but this was something he had to do. Something he'd been waiting twenty years for.

As he opened the trunk of the car, he noticed Gil had turned in the front seat and stared at him with wide eyes. He could guess who it was Martin was holding and started shaking his head in protest. It looked like he was trying to say something, struggling against the duct tape Martin had put on his mouth when they'd first arrived at the cabin. Gil was scared and it made Martin smile. He gently put Malcolm down in the trunk and put the chloroform rag against his nose again to make sure he'd be out for the rest of the drive. He also used a scarf to make a brace for his arm. He closed the door after he was certain his son was comfortable and took place in the driver's seat again.

"My boy's here!"

Martin smiled as Gil struggled harder than ever, more scared now than he had been so far. They were all gonna have so much fun together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the comments, they always make my day.
> 
> Now would be a great time to take a look at those tags I included, because this is where they become relevant.

"The Surgeon's son has been reported missing. One month after being kidnapped by the Junkyard Killer, NYPD consultant Malcolm Bright has disappeared once again. He was last seen late last night leaving Claremont Psychiatric Hospital. It has now been confirmed that the man who abducted Lieutenant Arroyo yesterday afternoon was in fact Martin Whitly who has been evading police for twelve days now. Sources tell us the two cases may be connected. More details to come."

\- - - - -

Jessica couldn't stop pacing around the house. Her son was missing. Her son had been kidnapped, again. And the man who had done it was the one she had married. Her ex-husband. The father of her children. The thought of Martin having all of this power over Malcolm was sickening. Part of her wanted so hard to believe that he loved their children too much to really hurt him, but she knew they couldn't be so lucky. Malcolm had betrayed his father. He had called the police on him and gotten him arrested. Martin always had anger issues, and he was a serial killer. He would want to make Malcolm pay for what he did, and it would certainly be in some painful way.

She knew what he'd done. She knew everything about the people he killed. She knew what he was capable of. She tried to stop the images from forming inside her mind. She didn't want to imagine her son that way. It was driving her mad. And she knew the pacing would be driving her daughter mad as well, if she was mentally there enough to notice it.

Ainsley had been sitting on the couch for hours now. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and she kept hitting her head against her knees. Jessica had told her to stop several times already, but there was nothing to be done. Her daughter was racked with guilt. She thought it was all her fault. She was nothing like the confident, cheery woman they saw on the news. Right now, she was falling apart, barely holding herself together.

Multiple times already, Jessica had tried to comfort Ainsley. She had told her she had nothing to feel guilty about, that it was what Martin did. He manipulated her just like anyone else. There was no reason to feel bad for falling for it, it happened to everyone. Jessica was so fooled by him, she actually married him. That last part actually managed to make a timid smile appear on Ainsley's face.

Up until then, Jessica had wondered how Ainsley could do those reports on television and talk about this whole situation like it wasn't affecting her at all, like she was completely outside of it. She was always so composed and professional. She looked at the same time as though she felt nothing and was sympathetic. Jessica had thought it was because her daughter didn't really care, or was cold. She worried Ainsley may have inherited more from her father than she'd realised. It turned out she was simply better at compartmentalising. It was all an act. Not unlike the one Jessica put on herself every day.

Jessica walked over to the couch and sat next to her daughter. She wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer. She rubbed her hand on her side and shushed her, trying her best to soothe her. Ainsley hugged her back. She buried her face in the crook of her mother's neck and let herself cry.

"It's okay, it's all gonna be okay. Your brother will figure it out, he always does."

She tried to make herself believe it even as she said it. How had it all come down to this? Her entire family was falling apart. She could barely hold it together for her daughter's sake. Even bourbon couldn't help anymore. She was worried like never before, wracking her mind trying to think of something, anything that could help. Maybe she remembered a place Martin would go to, a place he'd mentioned or knew about. She hated having to sit here and do nothing but wait.

It was obvious it was getting harder and harder for Ainsley too. She jumped every time her phone buzzed, scared to learn some new development in the case she'd have to report on. She looked like she wouldn't be able to take any more bad news, and yet, she kept going. She stubbornly refused to take a sick day. If she had to, she would pull herself together and go back out there, informing the city with just the smallest shake in her voice. But at this moment, she'd been strong for too long, and she let it catch up with her.

Then, there were the members of the family who weren't here with her. Malcolm would do everything he could to come back to them, she knew it. He had been through a lot, but he always somehow ended up fine. Jessica couldn't stop thinking about what he'd told her about his last kidnapping, however. If he had to go through withdrawal again, he might not be able to help himself. All she could hope for was that he could keep his ability to think straight, no matter where he was, or what was happening to him.

Jessica felt nothing but deep-seated hatred for Martin. He had manipulated everyone and now he had her son. She felt so much guilt for bringing him into her life, for letting him hurt all of these people all these years. She may not have known about it, but if her 10-year-old son could figure it out, shouldn't she have? Now he was out there somewhere, with not one but two people at his mercy, and she felt helpless.

And Gil. She also considered him part of the family at this point. He'd been there for them every step of the way, always making sure she was fine, taking the children whenever she needed, providing Malcolm with a friend he could rely on. She didn't know what it was she felt for him exactly, how she saw him. They had barely just started talking again after years. But there was something between them, some kind of a vibe. Sometimes, when she talked to him, when they stood arguably too close to each other, she thought maybe Gil wanted something more than friendship. And she wasn't immune to it either. Certainly, what she felt right now, as he was held somewhere by her ex-husband, was stronger than simple worry for an acquaintance, a friend, her son's father figure.

It was all slipping away from her. People she cared about disappeared or broke down, her life was in shambles right now. No one wanted anything to do with her. It was even worse now that Martin had escaped, no one would approach her, or even let themselves be seen anywhere near her. Any club she was a member of frowned upon seeing her step foot at one of their functions, not that there had been many in the past two weeks, just enough for her to notice the looks, the clear obligation to still invite her because of the Milton name. But it didn't matter. She wanted to stay here, isolated on the small island of peace that was her home. She wanted to stay and wait for Malcolm and Gil to come back. She wanted to hold Ainsley until she felt better. She felt helpless here, but at least no one judged her as long as she didn't go anywhere. She hated it, but not as much as she hated being around those people.

Jessica didn't even want to think about the case anymore. Dani had called her to give her an update early in the morning. They were heading back to the cabin to look for what they could've missed in the dark. They had no leads. She and JT were working hard to keep Colette from coming to the house and asking questions.

She had barely managed to hold it together at the thought of her son, held against his will, likely going through hell, while all the FBI was doing was trying to figure out if he was an accomplice, if he had killed an agent and joined his father.

Jessica pushed those thoughts out of her mind and rocked her daughter, both of them crying, wondering where Malcolm and Gil could be at this very moment. Feeling comfort thinking that at least they were together.

What was Martin putting their family through?

\- - - - -

Malcolm was coming to his senses slowly. He still had trouble opening his eyes. He was sitting up on something soft and comfortable, he could feel something tight around his chest holding him in place against a hard surface. He couldn't move his head at all. He tried opening his eyes again, but they still felt too heavy. He moved his legs and right arm only to find himself pulling against restraints. His left hand was throbbing. It was held against his chest by something soft. He could feel it going all the way up to his neck, some kind of brace surely. He tried harder and finally managed to pry his eyes open.

He had to get used to the brightness at first. He tried to look down at his arm, but something was keeping his head fixed against whatever his back was against. His memory of what happened was hazy. He remembered being at the precinct with Dani and JT, and then Colette came and dragged him to the interrogation room. Everything after that was a blur. He struggled to get it back, but it only hurt his head.

He had to settle on looking at his surroundings. He couldn't turn his head, but as far as he could see, he was in a bedroom on the upper floor of a house, it looked vaguely familiar, he'd been here before. He could see a hallway through an open door to his left. He was tied to the headboard of the bed. He was oddly comfortable.

And then he saw him. Right ahead. On a chair by the wall, near a closed door, likely leading to a bathroom. Rope tightly wrapped around his chest. Ankles attached to the chair's legs with zip ties. Arms tied together behind his back. His mouth covered by duct tape. His head hanging low over his chest. Bruises seemed to be forming on the side of his face, but nothing serious, probably just a punch.

It all came back to him now. Colette leaving him alone. Getting the bobby pin from his pocket and failing to use it with only his index and middle fingers. Breaking his cast against the table to free his thumb. Talking to Dr Higa. Realising this was all about their past. Deciding to go back to the cabin where the Junkyard Killer kept him. Where they had that camping trip all those years ago. Finding the body of the FBI agent who was on guard. Being grabbed and chloroformed. In all the fear and excitement, he hadn't been able to see who took him, but it had to be Martin. It could only be him.

Who else would put him in a bed and make sure he was in a comfortable position even tied up? Who else would take the time to get him something to support his broken hand? This was not just any kidnapper. It was someone who cared about him.

The man sitting in front of him, on a hard wooden chair that would be a lot more uncomfortable than the bed, with nowhere near the level of care Malcolm had gotten, though more had been spent in making sure he couldn't get away, was further proof. They'd all seen the video. They knew Martin was responsible for his disappearance.

They were alone for now, but there was no telling how long it would last. Martin couldn't be that far. He could hear the sound of the tv coming from downstairs, his father had to be watching, keeping up to date with the case, hoping to catch a glimpse at Ainsley. He could come up any minute, probably would if he heard them make a sound. Malcolm took a deep breath and thought for a second. He wasn't sure whether waking him up was a good idea or if he should just let him be until Martin came back. But what if it was their only chance to talk? He had to find out.

"Gil!"

He made sure his voice wasn't loud enough to make it downstairs, but strong enough that it could reach Gil. Nothing happened.

"Gil!"

He could see him stirring up, slowly coming to. Gil lifted his head and his eyes went wide in fear and worry as soon as he saw Malcolm. He shook his head and tears started falling down his cheeks.

"It's alright, Gil, I'm fine."

Gil only kept crying. What had Martin done to him? There hadn't been that much time between both of their abductions, but Malcolm had just missed an entire night. Any number of things could have happened. And even before, who knew what Martin could've said to Gil on their way to the cabin.

"Are you okay?"

Gil nodded. He seemed to be trying to get him to try getting himself free, to save himself somehow. Malcolm pulled against the various restraints as hard as he could, but it was no use. He still couldn't even turn his head. However, as he struggled and found himself tied up too securely to get away, it reminded him of his time with John Watkins, nearly a month ago.

Panic started to form inside him as memories of his last kidnapping came clearly into his mind. He could almost still feel the way his heart was beating hard against his chest. The endless nausea. The sweats. The hallucinations. How had he been so stupid to get himself into that situation again? Why hadn't he just called for backup like Gil had told him to repeatedly? He would have to go through all of it again. He had only barely gotten back to a good rhythm with his meds and he'd have to go right back into withdrawal.

He felt himself hyperventilating. He was terrified. He didn't want to experience that again. That week had been the worst of his life. He had been in so much pain. And too much out of his mind to know anything. He hadn't even realised what was going on when he was rescued. He locked eyes with Gil who'd stopped crying. He looked just as scared as he was, but probably for a completely different reason. Malcolm couldn't think straight. He couldn't even breathe. He was having a panic attack and was unable to calm himself down. Gil was moving from side to side and it only confused him more. Where were they? Why were they in the same room? How long until he lost his mind again?

Gil made the chair topple over and he fell to the floor in a loud thump. Immediately, Malcolm could hear steps on the stairs. What was Martin gonna do to them? Would he kill Gil? Would Malcolm be too confused to notice? Would he force Malcolm to hurt Gil while he was too out of it to tell the difference between reality and hallucinations? He felt like his heart was about to jump right out of his chest, it was beating so hard.

Martin came in. He found Gil, on the floor, his head shaking and pointing to the bed. He'd fallen on purpose, to get help. Martin could hear his son hyperventilating and he climbed in bed next to him. Malcolm instinctively tried to scuttle away, but it was impossible. Martin took his hand in his, holding it tightly, so the tremor couldn't shake it anymore. He put his other hand on Malcolm's face, stroking his hair and cheek gently in an effort to soothe him. Malcolm kept hyperventilating.

"It's okay, my boy, I'm here, you're just fine. Calm down, everything's gonna be alright."

Malcolm thrashed. He tried hard to pull his hand free. He kicked on the bed in desperation. He wanted to go home. He missed even the past weeks where he could never be alone, always surrounded by someone who cared about him. He had never been so afraid of something than he was of what getting off his meds again would do to him. Tears filled his eyes as it got harder and harder for him to get air into his lungs.

"It's time for the morning dose of your medication, maybe it'll make you feel better."

Malcolm calmed down instantly. His meds. The ones that had disappeared from his drawer. Martin had them. He'd had to have gone to his apartment. Probably while he was with Dr Le Deux, right before he took Gil from the street in front of it. It had all been part of the plan. He was always going to get Malcolm here somehow.

"Good, take deep breaths now, Malcolm. I'll go get your meds, and some breakfast, don't move."

Martin stood up and walked over to Gil. He made sure he was still tied securely and proceeded to the exit, leaving him there on the floor. He stopped at the door and turned as he'd suddenly remembered something.

"It's just an expression, I know you can't move. I'm sorry about that by the way, but I can't trust you to stay here. And I don't think you'll like the fun things I have planned for today."

Malcolm watched him leave. His emotions were all over the place. He was relieved to know he wouldn't go into withdrawal again, that his father had thought about that and planned accordingly. But he was also worried about the so-called fun activities Martin had in store for the three of them. It definitely involved him hurting either of his hostages, or both. Martin had said Malcolm wouldn't like it, and Dr Higa had mentioned Martin holding a grudge for what happened twenty years ago. This would not end well for any of them.

A few minutes passed. Gil simply lay sideways on the floor, in a position made awkward by the chair he was tied to. He seemed a lot less scared though, reassured by the way Martin had cared for his son. It was like he didn't care what happened to him as long as Malcolm was doing well, which only made Malcolm feel more guilty. Martin came back with a breakfast tray that he set on the bed, over Malcolm's legs. On it were a plate of bacon, eggs and potatoes, a glass of water, the missing pill bottles and a first aid kit. Martin sat on the edge of the bed, loosened the restraint on Malcolm's wrist and handed him a fork.

"Here, start eating while I get your meds ready."

"I'm not hungry."

"I doubt that's true. But it doesn't matter, some of these pills shouldn't be taken on an empty stomach."

"What about Gil?"

"What about him? He's fine."

"He needs to eat."

"No, he doesn't. You do, you're hurt. Your hand needs the energy and nutrients to heal."

"I'm not eating if you don't give him something too."

Martin sighed. He looked as though he was about to lose patience. He seemed to consider his options for a moment. Then, reluctantly, likely just to buy Malcolm's cooperation for a little while at least, he got a bite of eggs and a piece of bacon on the fork and walked across the room. He pulled Gil up by the collar of his shirt and set him back upright.

"Open up."

Gil obliged, Martin put the food in his mouth and went right back to sit by his son. He handed him the fork again, this time with a more insisting look. Malcolm threw a sad glance toward Gil, took the fork and started eating. It wouldn't have been enough to sustain Gil, but he'd try again. It felt like asking again would be pushing it and Malcolm still needed to find his footing in this new situation before he really started fighting.

There were a few minutes of silence while Malcolm ate and Gil watched, undoubtedly trying to gauge how bad the situation was. Martin picked all the right pills from the bottles into his hand that he offered Malcolm. He immediately put the fork down. He took the pills and put them in his mouth all at once, downing them with the water. When his plate was empty, Martin put it aside on the floor, keeping only the first aid kit. He reset the restraint on his right wrist so he couldn't bring his hand to his face anymore and took off what turned out to be a scarf that was bracing his left arm.

"I examined your hand while you were sleeping, my boy. Did you break it yourself? The angle seems wrong for John to have done it."

Malcolm only stared back. Martin grabbed his hand and pulled it into his lap, causing his son to wince in pain. It was already quite painful before he destroyed his cast, but now every small movement felt like the bones were being broken all over again. Picking the lock of the handcuffs had been excruciating. He'd had to breathe hard through it and try not to think about it.

"I'll bandage it for now, but it's only temporary. I don't know why you would get rid of your cast, but it was pretty stupid of you, I'll need to make you a new one. And that'll cost us time to play, because I don't have the supplies for that here."

There was a hint of hope in Gil's eyes. It was a good thing Martin had his back turned and couldn't see it. Malcolm made sure not to let the same thing show on his own face. It might be their saving grace, their best chance to get out of this. Martin would have to leave them alone to purchase what he needed to take care of his son. There was no way for them to know how far the closest pharmacy was, but it would likely be their only opportunity to try an escape.

Martin finished wrapping Malcolm's hand, he had paid particularly close attention to his thumb. Malcolm let out a whimper as his father moved it to make sure it was in place and hadn't been dislocated again. He told him how important it was to get this right so it would heal properly.

"You're lucky your dad's a doctor. If you had a cop or something like that as a father, you'd be in trouble right now. That is an injury that requires immediate medical attention."

"Which I could get at the hospital if I wasn't tied to a bed."

Gil threw him a look that clearly meant, "Yeah, right, like you'd go to the hospital even if you could." Malcolm instinctively tried shaking his head, but had to settle for an eye roll. Martin noticed and turned to look at Gil.

"Seems duct taping his mouth wasn't enough to shut him up. No matter, we're ready to start now. The three of us will have so much fun today."

Martin put the first aid kit on a bedside table barely inside Malcolm's peripheral vision. Then, he picked up the breakfast tray and left the room. Gil looked alarmed. Malcolm shared his fear. There was no way anything Martin had planned would actually be fun for anyone other than Martin himself, he'd already admitted Malcolm wouldn't like it, and he'd already shown he had no regard for Gil's well-being. Malcolm reached up with his right hand, but he couldn't even touch whatever was wrapped around his chest, holding him in place. He pulled as hard as he could against every restraint tying him to the bed, but it was no use. Gil did the same in vain.

"There we are." Martin walked back with a duffle bag that he dropped on the bed, just out of reach of his son's feet. Malcolm doubted it contained board games and playing cards or anything actually pleasant for them to do. "Now, you can feel free to scream if you want, there's no one close enough to hear."

Martin yanked the duct tape off and Gil closed his eyes and turned his head away from the pang of pain. Martin smiled. He loved control, he enjoyed feeling himself in power over other people and he currently had two hostages at his mercy. It was like his own Christmas morning, a month late, nothing could bring him more joy. Except maybe the frustration and helplessness in Malcolm's expression.

"You know, it really worked out in my favour that you repetitively failed to teach my boy to always call for back up. Imagine what could've happened if he hadn't come to the cabin on his own. They might've caught me."

Guilt and blame washed over Malcolm. It was all his fault. All of this was his fault. He could've called from Claremont, he could've waited for Dani and JT to accompany him. He had been so stupid, thinking he didn't have time, thinking Colette would somehow slow them down or stop them altogether. For the third time in only a few months, he had foregone Gil's instruction to call for back up and put himself in a vulnerable position around a serial killer. But this time it was worse, because Gil was here too. Gil could've been saved if it hadn't been for him.

Gil's plead not to blame himself, that it wasn't his fault, barely registered in Malcolm's mind. It wasn't true. None of this would be happening if it hadn't been for him. Whatever horror was about to unfold would be just as much his responsibility than his father's.

"Whitly, let Bright go. You don't need both of us, just keep me."

"No!" Malcolm tried to surge forward, struggling against the restraints.

"Oh, but I do need both of you. How else am I supposed to teach my boy a lesson if he's not here?" Martin landed a punch in Gil's stomach, making him fold over in his chair. "And don't call him Bright."

"Please, Dr Whitly, if you have to teach me a lesson, do it, but don't hurt Gil. He doesn't deserve it, I do."

Martin walked back to the bed to rummage through the duffle. With a huge smile spread across his face, he stared at his son as he pulled out a barbecue lighter and a knife. Malcolm tried to refrain his fear from showing, as it only seemed to make Martin happier. He saw Gil pulling at his own restraints, almost falling over again.

"He doesn't deserve it? That man took everything from me! As if arresting me wasn't enough, he stole my children too. Stole my son." Martin started warming up the blade of the knife with the lighter. "He thinks he's better than me, that he was a better father to you than I was. He corrupted you, turned you against me."

"You are a monster, he had to stop you."

"But he didn't just stop me, did he? He got rid of me and took my family. You know, I was listening to you all in your apartment yesterday. The way he flirted with my wife, the way she laughed at his jokes, the way they worked together to keep you safe from me, the way they talked about me in disdain. He wants to replace me."

Malcolm was blindsided. He hadn't noticed any of that. His entire job was about reading people, he was proud of how proficient he was at it, and yet he had missed this big thing right in front of him. Had he been too absorbed in himself to see what was happening?

"Can you believe the nerve to hit on _my_ wife while still wearing his wedding ring?"

"Your ex-wife."

Martin took a step in Malcolm's direction. His anger was growing, he was right on that edge, if Malcolm kept pushing him, he might be able to distract him from his plans just long enough. For what? He wasn't sure. But buying time was all he could do right now. He couldn't move, couldn't stop what would happen, but he could try this. The team needed all the time they could get to find them, and Gil and Malcolm could use some to come up with some kind of a plan as well.

Something shifted in Martin's eyes. He stopped and, to Malcolm's dismay, his smile reappeared. He put the lighter in his back pocket, walked around the chair and freed Gil's hands with the knife. Gil struggled, tried to pull away, but Martin wrapped his hands around his neck and choked him until he weakened, then he took his wedding ring off. Gil's voice sounded rough when he spoke.

"No! Nothing's going on between me and Jessica, I swear. Please, give me my ring back!"

Martin threw the ring in Malcolm's face and snapped Gil's finger. They both screamed and Martin laughed. Tears started spilling down both Malcolm and Gil's faces as they struggled even harder against their restraints. Martin took a new zip tie from the bag and went back to the chair. Gil fought him off. He pushed him off of him and punched him when he approached. But ultimately, Martin had the advantage of not having his legs and chest tied to a chair, or a recently broken finger. He put his foot between Gil's thighs and pushed the chair, making him fall on his back. Then he flipped him over, grabbed his arms and tied them together again.

"I appreciate you participating and making today even more fun. Let's move on now, shall we?"

Martin set the chair back up and resumed warming the knife with the lighter. After a few minutes of silence, he tested the temperature of the blade on Gil's cheek who recoiled from it instantly. His skin had turned red. Martin kept passing the flame on the knife to keep it warm.

"See, my boy, that night, twenty years ago, when you called the cops, that's when you made that wretched man enter our lives. So I think it would be fair of him to think that everything that happened after he first rang our doorbell is your fault."

Malcolm had been feeling guilty about everything all these years, he'd been feeling guilty about Gil's pain ever since he was first kidnapped. He already thought everything was his fault. He already thought all he was good for was to bring misery in other people's lives, especially Gil's. Martin was only being the personification of Malcolm's internal dialogue. Like a nightmare, or a hallucination. Except this was real.

"Don't listen to him, Bright. None of this is your fault."

Martin punched him in the stomach again. Malcolm was crying. Even as he was being hurt, Gil was still trying to help him, to protect him. He knew what he'd been thinking and did his best to reassure him. It only made Malcolm feel worse. All he wanted was to get them both away from Martin, and if he couldn't then he wished he could let his head fall down, curl up in this bed, pretend none of this was happening.

"I tried to fix your mistake and kill him that night, but once again, you stopped me. You picked him over your own father. You saved his life and had me thrown into a cell for the rest of mine."

He put the knife against Gil's cheek again, this time holding his head still to prevent him from getting away. Gil was writhing and groaning, and all Malcolm could do was watch.

"Did you think there wouldn't be any consequences to your actions?"

Martin let the blade slide against Gil's skin, down the side of his face, then his neck.

"Now, you get to watch as the man you brought into our lives, the man you chose to replace me, suffers. I get to hurt you the way you hurt me. You took everything from me and I get to torture someone you care about. I can finally get back at both of you from taking me away from my family."

"Please," Malcolm's voice sounded weak and he hated himself for it. Hated how Martin had managed to get to him so easily. He always tried to make himself appear as strong as possible in front of his father, but that façade had crumbled completely, "please, hurt me. Hurt me instead. I'm the one who did all this, it was all my fault, I deserve it. Please, leave him alone and hurt me."

"Why would I do that? I love you, my boy, I would never hurt you."

Before he could stop himself, Malcolm was sobbing. All of this had been about making him watch while someone he cared about got tortured. Everyone had been right. This whole time, everything Martin had done was about him. But they had been so focused on trying to protect him and keep him from getting taken, that it had left everyone else vulnerable. They had played right into Martin's hand. And Gil would have to pay the price.

"You can do whatever you want with me, but please let Bright go. He's been through enough because of you."

"It's so touching how you both try to protect each other." Martin punched Gil in the stomach, yet again. "If only you could be like that with your own families. We wouldn't be here if Malcolm had just been a good boy and protected me, or at least didn't rat me out." He made a few quick slashes across Gil's arm. "And I heard you couldn't save your wife. So you've decided to steal mine." He added more slashes on the other arm.

"Jessica despises you. She would love nothing more than see you dead."

"Would she now? Well, maybe I can be Malcolm's first kill. If I had a say in the way I would exit this world, that'd be the way. Murdered at the hand of my own son, taking over the family business."

"That would never happen." Malcolm said through gritted teeth.

"But you were an FBI agent, weren't you? They must've given you a gun, told you how to use it. You must've killed before." Martin walked away from Gil toward Malcolm. "How did it feel? How did you like that rush of adrenaline when your bullet hit that really bad person? When their expression changed into fear and realisation of what you'd done to them? When the blood started spilling out of them and they died? How did it feel? Tell me."

"I never... killed... anyone."

Despite all the pain he must've been in, Gil raised his head to stare at Malcolm. He never knew about that. He'd probably assumed the same as Martin. Now that he thought about it, it might've been why he was so worried about him going away to join the FBI. Because he would eventually have to take a life and wouldn't have Gil to talk to about it. Malcolm had never been good at making friends, it wasn't any different at Quantico. If he had been forced to kill, isolated from everyone, it could've had terrible consequences. It could've unraveled him.

Add that to his mother's disapproval in his career choice, and his constant fear that maybe, just maybe, some people were indeed born to be murderers. Or that he wasn't, but his father had already had enough of an influence on him to make him a serial killer too. Malcolm was too scared of the possibility to risk it. He wouldn't ever kill, he was too afraid he'd enjoy it.

"Never? Not even in a shoot out? There must've been a shoot out."

"I never fired my gun outside of the shooting range."

"Oh, the FBI must've loved that!"

Malcolm had gotten into trouble on several occasions for that. Colette thought he was too sympathetic toward killers and that was why he refused to shoot them. They had been trained to fire killing shots too. He expressed his disapproval of that on multiple occasions, kept asking that they promote targeting the legs, it would be enough to disorient them, make them lose their focus. And they would survive. The Bureau thought it would be too much of a risk. He eventually stopped bringing it up.

There was a specific incident when a fellow agent got hurt when they went to apprehend a suspect. Colette blamed Malcolm. She kept saying how it wouldn't have happened if he'd just fired his gun, if he'd killed the man. But he was unarmed and the agent wasn't paying attention. Malcolm had yelled at him to be careful, warned him before the suspect attacked. Everyone was eventually fine and the review board ruled that Malcolm wasn't at fault. Colette disagreed, but she never trusted him.

"You'd think they would appreciate me refraining from killing, considering their main problem with me was that they thought I was too much like you."

"To be fair, I never much liked guns myself. Takes the art out of murder."

"So what did you do with mine?"

Malcolm's breathing hitched. He'd forgotten all about that. Gil would've had his gun on him when he got kidnapped. He and the team already knew from Ainsley that Martin had taken his phone. They'd tried to trace it, but it had probably been turned off as soon as the call ended. None of them had given any thought about the gun. They'd been so focused on trying to rescue Gil, they never even realised The Surgeon would now be in possession of a firearm.

"Don't worry, it's somewhere safe."

Martin might not intend to use it, but there was no telling what he'd do if confronted by the police. No matter what his endgame was here, where he saw this going long-term, Malcolm was sure he'd go to great lengths to avoid capture. Martin hated being locked up, he wouldn't want to ever go back.

"Well, that was fun, but I've got an errand to run. I'll be back later, try getting some rest in the meantime."

Martin hit Gil's temple with the butt of the knife, rendering him unconscious. Malcolm cried out as blood started leaking out. His father came to the head of the bed and patted his shoulder in a way that was meant to be comforting, but only made him jerk, as much as he could at least. Then Martin went away again and Malcolm was left to watch helplessly as blood slowly made its way down the side of Gil's face and onto his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not forget Edrisa and Gabrielle, they will be back next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

"Good evening, it has now been 24 hours since Lieutenant Gil Arroyo of NYPD's major crimes was abducted by Dr Martin Whitly, aka The Surgeon. Until nearly two weeks ago, Whitly was serving a life sentence at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital for the murder of 23 people throughout the 90s. According to one of the two guards who were injured that night, the escape occurred after a group therapy session, when Whitly and several others were being escorted back to their cells. Claremont officials believe The Surgeon may have manipulated fellow inmates into creating a distraction, something he is known to have done in the past. Most recently, Whitly convinced a younger patient to attack our cameraman while we were conducting an exclusive interview in his cell.

Twenty years ago, Arroyo was the first officer on the scene when Whitly's own son called the police. Young Malcolm then warned Arroyo not to drink the tea his father would offer him, which saved his life. This arrest contributed to Arroyo's climb in ranks, though he accomplished much more since then. Arroyo has kept in touch with the Whitly family over the years. He even served as a mentor for Malcolm who became interested in crime solving and turned away from his father's legacy to pursue a career in law enforcement. First with the FBI and now as a consultant for the NYPD under Lieutenant Arroyo's supervision.

Malcolm Bright, formerly Whitly, disappeared only a few hours after Arroyo. The police followed his trace to an undisclosed location where an FBI agent was found dead. According to an inside source, discovery led detectives to confirm Martin Whitly also paid a visit to the same location that night. A joint investigation between the FBI and NYPD is ongoing to find the whereabouts of the three men, who are strongly believed to be together, and to determine the identity of the FBI agent's killer.

The NYPD would like to remind everyone that they have a tip line set up for anyone who may have seen or heard something that could help them advance their investigation. Thanks to a generous donation from Jessica Whitly, Bright's mother and Whitly's ex-wife, they are offering a 500 000$ reward for any information that would lead to finding either of the three men. Mrs Whitly urges people to help her in the search for Lieutenant Arroyo and her son. The authorities still advise caution as this situation develops. This was Ainsley Whitly, thank you and have a nice evening!"

Ainsley could barely keep her eyes open. She was at her second cup of coffee and it was barely 10 am. She hadn't slept well the past two nights. Since her father called and her brother disappeared, she turned and turned in bed for hours before she fell asleep, only to wake up again an hour later. She had those awful dreams that she couldn't get out of her head, adding to all those worst case scenarios she kept making up during the day. She felt awful, disgusting and exhausted. She kept thinking how this was how Malcolm must feel all the time, everyday of his life, and she had no idea how he still managed to function. How could he possibly make himself seem so energetic when his entire body would be craving rest like his life depended on it? Which it probably did at this point.

The autopsy room felt strange. It was so removed from everything else. The metal tables and instruments that shined, everything so artificially clean there. Horrible things were brought and seen here. The idea of all that gore in what must be the only room with no mess of the entire police station had always amused Ainsley. This place was outside of life. All that happened here was scientific and technical, who people were before they got here didn't change anything, they were all equals in death. That FBI agent lying there on the table, covered by a thin cloth, would soon end up in a drawer next to the body of the Junkyard Killer.

She sat nervously in Dr Tanaka's office, waiting for her to come back. She'd had to go upstairs to give an update to the team. Ainsley had tried to follow her up, she had something she needed to talk about with those detectives, Powell and Tarmel, but Dr Tanaka had insisted that she stay down here. She'd said, a little too strongly maybe, that it would be better if Ainsley wasn't seen, especially by some FBI agent who would be too happy to interrogate her. Going upstairs would only complicate things and make them all waste precious time. So Ainsley had agreed to sat down and go over the autopsy report and public case notes she'd given her. Dr Tanaka promised she'd listen and help her with whatever when she'd be back.

Earlier this morning, Ainsley had been by Malcolm's apartment to feed Sunshine. Anything she could do to make herself useful, to help in any way, made her feel better. It made it easier not to think about everything else. At least for a little while. She did her reports to inform the public and she kept her brother’s parakeet alive, it didn’t take the blame for all that was going on away from her, but it was productive. Much better than spending hours curled up on her mother’s couch crying. She’d done that, she’d gotten it out of her system, now she carried on.

She stayed a while to hang out with Sunshine, the poor bird seemed just as lonely as she was. Ainsley decided to clean up a bit, not that there was much to clean, her brother was far from messy, but the cage could use a little do-over. Sunshine never much liked her things being touched. Ainsley had seen it multiple times. The bird would land on Malcolm’s shoulder and peck at him while he cleaned, she did the same when Ainsley did it. It wasn’t the first time it happened. Jessica hated Sunshine for some reason, so Ainsley had been the one to come and take care of her during Malcolm’s last kidnapping.

His last kidnapping. It was hard to believe her brother had been kidnapped twice in a month. She would laugh at how ridiculous that was if she wasn’t so worried. And to think it all happened because she called Gil about flowers. They hadn’t even gotten anything from them or the card to help them. Which is why she froze when she saw it. There, at the bottom of Sunshine’s cage, was a phone.

Ainsley used one of her brother’s ties to pick it up and put it in a plastic bag. She was careful, because it had to have been left there by whoever stole Malcolm’s meds. Everyone suspected it might be Martin, he was the only one that made sense and he was seen right outside the same day.

Maybe she should’ve called it in, she had detective Powell’s number now. But she’d been scared. What if it was another ruse? She couldn’t risk it, and she had to go to the precinct to pick up an autopsy report for work anyway. Dr Tanaka would probably bring someone back any minute now and Ainsley could stop worrying about it all. She liked her. Dr Tanaka was always smiling and so cheery despite the nature of her work. Visiting the morgue could be a difficult task, but not here. It was almost pleasant.

“Alright, I’m back!”

Ainsley turned, hoping to see at least one detective with her, but there was no one else.

“Dr Tanaka, you’re alone, I thought you’d bring back detective Powell or Tarmel.”

“Yeah, about that, I couldn’t find a way to get either of them to come down here without agent Swanson following them down. And please call me Edrisa.”

“What does it matter if that agent comes too? The FBI can help.”

“Fine, I will tell you, but only because we’re friends.”

Ainsley hadn’t realised they had made it to that point, they hadn’t even been on a first name basis before today despite knowing each other for years. Whatever it was sounded like it would upset her. Dr Tanaka, Edrisa, had been vague before, like she didn’t want to add on to everything else she had to deal with.

“What’s wrong, Edrisa?”

“Agent Swanson, and the FBI, think your brother may have gone to join your father. She thinks he’s an accomplice, not a victim.”

“But they found proof Dr Whitly was at the cabin, he took my brother.”

“That’s what Dani and JT think too. The tire tracks in the snow show Gil’s car was there, and there’s only one set of footprints out of the cabin. Bright was probably carried out by his father.”

“So why does Swanson disagree?”

“She thinks your brother could’ve stepped in the same tracks. And the fingerprints on the flashlight they found next to the body were Bright’s.”

“But the flashlight wasn’t the murder weapon, was it?”

“No. Cause of death was strangulation.”

Something was wrong. Edrisa didn’t say that in a reassuring tone, but more like it was another problem. She sounded sorry as she announced it. Ainsley was afraid to ask, but she had to know. There was no point in hiding from the truth, and she knew her brother wouldn’t kill anyone, even less an FBI agent, no matter what anybody said.

“You can’t prove it wasn’t Malcolm, can you? Nothing irrefutable points to Dr Whitly?”

“I’m sorry. I was very thorough. But he was held in a chokehold from behind, there are no handprints, it could’ve been anyone. As long as they were strong and skilled enough to overpower him. I’ve seen your brother, he may be small, but he is built. Those arms! I mean, unfortunately, with his FBI training and everything, he fits the bill. I’m sure he’s innocent though.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what was it you needed to see Dani and JT about?”

“Oh, right.”

She had almost forgotten all about it. Learning that the FBI thought of Malcolm as a suspect rather than a victim enraged her. She wanted to go upstairs and give that Colette Swanson a piece of her mind, but she didn’t. She took the plastic bag out of her purse and handed it to Edrisa.

“I found this cleaning up Malcolm’s birdcage.”

“Bright has a bird?”

“Yes, please focus. I think it could’ve been left by whoever stole his meds. Maybe Dr Whitly used it to listen in on them to time his grab of Gil.”

“If so, there would be a second phone he might still be using.”

“It’s what I thought too. We should call it.”

“Absolutely. Let me just do a few things first.”

Edrisa put gloves on and took the phone out of the bag. She dusted it and retrieved fingerprints they could compare to Martin’s later. Then she set up call recording on her computer.

“Shouldn’t we call the others?”

“No, I got everything. There’s no need yet.”

Ainsley took a deep breath. She pulled up the phone’s call history which only showed one number. The time of the call was just as they’d thought. There was no doubt that if anyone picked up, it would be Martin Whitly. Edrisa gave her a supportive smile and she pressed the button to make the call. She put it on speaker even though Edrisa could hear through the recording, she felt less alone this way. Ainsley hoped Martin would be taken by surprise and say something that would help them. They waited anxiously as the phone rang once, twice, three times and…

“Ah, I see someone found that phone I left at Malcolm’s. Faster than I thought.”

They heard a faint “what?” in the background, but it was too low to identify whose voice it was. Wherever Martin was, it sounded peaceful, no outside noises made it through the call. They still hoped they could find something when they enhanced it later.

“Who is it? My money’s on Ainsley. I don’t think Jessica would go anywhere near that bird.”

“Where are you?”

“Ainsley, honey, I knew it’d be you. Probably went to take care of your brother’s pet while he’s gone. That’s so nice of you.”

There was a moan. It sounded stronger and closer than what they’d heard before. Ainsley and Edrisa looked at each other, eyebrow raised. Could Martin have answered the phone with his two hostages nearby?

“Are Bright and Gil okay?”

Ainsley slapped Edrisa’s shoulder. What was she thinking? But she knew exactly what. She was also too worried to stop the words from escaping her lips. She’d tried to maintain some composure and strength, she’d done her best not to sound too eager, but she could understand how Edrisa could’ve let her emotions take over. It had been close to two days since her friends had been abducted by a serial killer, anyone would want to get any information possible about their well-being.

“Someone is with you? That’s fair, I’m not alone either. I had to put you on speaker as well, my hands are busy. Stop moving! I’m sorry, what was I saying? Oh right, you didn’t catch me at the best time.” A second, louder moan was heard, as well as a groan and something like a chair creaking farther away. “Who’s your friend? Someone from Malcolm’s team at the NYPD, I can assume from your brother’s face. But not the one who was at the apartment, I don’t recognise the voice.”

“I’m Edrisa, the M.E. How are they?”

“Medical examiner, that’s interesting. You know I’m a surgeon, of course, which is quite lucky, because my son really messed up his thumb. And breaking that cast certainly didn’t help. Do you know how it happened?”

They heard another moan, it sounded like someone was trying to talk, but couldn’t. It had to be Malcolm. Ainsley had heard him sound very similarly to that a few times before, when he was at the hospital, fighting the sedation. He was always so eager to talk, get up and leave. No matter what Martin was doing to him, it was no surprise he’d be resisting, especially if he had been sedated. Whatever was going on at the other end of the line worried Ainsley and she was losing her patience quickly. She needed to know.

“Dr Whitly, tell us how Malcolm and Gil are.”

“When will you ever start calling me dad? Dr Whitly sounds so impersonal. You’re just as stubborn as your brother. Which shouldn’t be a surprise really. Your mother and I both are as well. How is your mother, by the way? She must be worried sick about Malcolm, can’t be thinking about anyone else, is she?”

There was a pause and he laughed. It sounded like he’d said that for someone else’s benefit and got exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Anyway, you can tell Jessica our son is fine. I had to give him a sedative, but he’s built quite the tolerance I’m afraid. I’m trying to fix his hand and he won’t stop moving. It’s almost like he doesn’t want me to help him, his manners leave something to be desired.”

“Ains, I’ve-“

“Oh, look, he says hello. I think he misses you. So do I, honey, I wish we could all be together.”

Ainsley’s heart skipped a beat when her brother spoke. She could hear how out of it he was, otherwise he probably would’ve tried something earlier. He knew something. He had information that could help, she could tell by how fast Martin had been to cut him off.

“Bright knows the place!”

Gil’s voice sounded hoarse and weak, but at least they knew he was still alive. That one sentence also made it clear to them that he and Malcolm had had some time alone to talk, which means they might’ve also had a chance to escape and hadn’t. Either they’d tried and gotten caught or they’d failed altogether. Whichever one it was, it meant they couldn’t get out of this on their own, they needed the others to find them. But why hadn’t they cried out their location? Why had Malcolm tried to make a full sentence when he was still struggling to be coherent? Why hadn’t Gil been more precise? Surely even just that little bit of information would be enough to make Martin angry.

Unless they didn’t know more. Maybe Malcolm had remembered something from that place, maybe one of his repressed memories took place where they were held. Malcolm might only know he’d been there before, but not exactly where there was.

“It’s gonna be okay, Mal, we’ll find you both. Just hold on.”

“That’s enough.” Martin’s voice had lost all its enthusiasm, but he was quick to soften it again. “I really enjoyed talking to you, honey. And it was nice to meet you, Edrisa, but I have to go now. Goodbye, Ainsley, say hi to your mother for me.”

Martin hung up. Ainsley immediately tried to call back, but the call didn’t make it through, he’d turned it off. She was disappointed. They’d barely learned anything at all. Other than the fact they were both alive and in one of the million places Malcolm could’ve set foot in during his life. Nothing that was said or heard could even convince the FBI that Malcolm was in fact a victim. Talking of which, steps were heard outside the autopsy room. Someone was coming.

“I’ll handle everything. Go, go, go!”

Ainsley thanked Edrisa, picked up her things and left.

\- - - - -

It felt like they’d been sitting in the conference room, arguing, for hours. Maybe because they’d been arguing for a day and a half, no matter where they were. They argued at the cabin, on the way back, in the car the next morning, again at the cabin, in autopsy and just about everywhere in the precinct. They’d made no progress on the case. They weren’t getting any closer to finding Martin, Gil or Malcolm. They just hated each other more. They couldn’t stand each other. And it was pretty clear that their constant fighting was driving JT mad. Only this morning, he’d gone out to call his wife twice and he’d visited Edrisa as many times, even though there was no reason for it. He was going to see if she needed help? Him? How was he supposed to help her? Basically everything she did grossed him out. Plus, she was done the second time he went, she’d already given them an update, she would be working on another case by then. However, JT had seemed weird when he came back, like he was hiding something. He’d dismissed Dani’s question by suggesting they get lunch.

They looked for properties in Martin Whitly’s name, but came up empty. Colette had the idea of looking at Jessica’s. They were reluctant at first, but they had to agree she was right. Martin would be familiar with a lot of them and could easily be hiding there. They knew he wouldn’t go somewhere he owned himself for obvious reasons. They went through the list of Jessica Whitly’s real estate holdings, most of which were in New York. They didn’t think Martin would come back to the city after the cabin, but they didn’t want to leave a stone unturned. They sent officers to check on a variety of empty buildings and places she rented out. They went through everything that would make sense for someone to be hiding with prisoners and only left out her private residential properties, including her house and the buildings Malcolm and Ainsley lived in.

It was mid-afternoon now. They were waiting for JT’s idea to get here. He’d been working all day, trying to crack this case and occasionally making sure Dani and Colette didn’t get into an actual fight, which was a way better use of his time than she had done. She’d mostly been failing to find arguments to convince Colette she was wrong about Malcolm and he couldn’t have killed that agent. So, of course, JT was the one who came up with an idea of something productive to do.

Dr Le Deux arrived first. She’d had to postpone a few patient appointments to free up her afternoon, but was happy to do it if she could be of any help at all to them. Though she doubted she could be. Dr Higa got there a few minutes later, excused himself for being late as group therapy was more agitated these days. His patients got excited talking about the situation with Martin Whitly.

“What is it you think we can help you with? I already told you, I can’t recall anything Martin ever said that would indicate where he would go.”

“That’s not why we wanted you here. Detective Tarmel thought you could help us delve more into their minds, maybe get an idea how this whole situation could play out, how Whitly and Bright would interact and how that could affect their plans.” Colette said.

“If you really want to learn more about their interactions, we’re not the right people to ask. Mr David actually assists to Malcolm’s visits to his father, he would know best how they act around each other.”

“Yes, but this isn’t a standard situation. Dr Whitly isn’t on a leash anymore, he doesn’t have to control himself. And Gil is with them. We need to know how far they could go in hurting each other, and what kind of place Martin would choose to finally get the confrontation he’s wanted all those years, according to that interview you gave Ainsley Whitly.”

Dani thought if she didn’t refer to Malcolm as a victim in front of their guests, it would give more weight to their conclusion that he was one. Colette couldn’t say they were influenced by her beliefs of his innocence if nothing was said of it. The doctors would share their own analysis and they would all have to accept it.

“Well,” Le Deux sat at the table with them, “Malcolm would do whatever it takes to solve a case and save a victim. He would certainly go to great lengths to help Gil get out of that situation. They have a close relationship, almost like father and son. You mentioned him breaking out of his cast to go after Martin on his own, that’s one example. He will put Gil’s life ahead of his own, I would go as far as saying that he’d be ready to die for him.”

“That’s something that will affect Martin’s actions too.” Higa approached. “Everything he knows about them comes from his interactions with either. He knows how his son talks about Arroyo, and how Arroyo was acting when Malcolm was kidnapped. While it did give him a pretty good idea of what was going on, he never saw them both together since the night he was arrested. Now, he gets to see just how close their bond is, how well they work together, and how much they want to protect each other. It could easily make him angry.”

“Is that good or bad?” JT asked.

“Bad for them, maybe good for us. Anger will make him more aggressive, more prone to hurting them, but also more prone to mistakes.”

“Isn’t there a chance Bright could be working with The Surgeon?”

Dani sighed. It was like Colette wanted Malcolm to be like his father. She wasn’t giving up. It was infuriating how much she hated him. Dani could see JT staring back at her, silently asking her not to start another argument about this. He agreed with her that Malcolm was innocent, but he clearly couldn’t stand more of this.

“It’s certainly something Martin would want, but he couldn’t achieve that in that short an amount of time, probably not ever.”

“Malcolm isn’t a killer.” Le Deux stated without the slightest hesitation. “He is good at his core. And his father saw that even as a child, it’s why he considered killing him once. Unless his father unlocked too many repressed memories and caused him to have a psychotic break, there is no way Malcolm would ever kill anyone.”

Dani smiled while Colette looked defeated. JT sighed in relief that they might finally be able to move past that. If the psychiatrist that worked with Malcolm since childhood assured them he wasn’t capable of murder, then there wasn’t much to keep arguing about. As glad as she was, Dani suddenly felt very tired. While she’d spent her time fighting with Colette, she’d avoided thinking about everything else. Like the fact they’d hit a dead end. They’d canvassed the whole area around the cabin, looked at all the traffic cams they could, but couldn’t figure out which direction Martin had driven off in. There was no trace of Gil’s car anywhere in New Jersey, as far as they could tell. Either Martin had managed to avoid being seen all the way to where he was staying, or he’d ditched the car for another before they could be spotted. They had nothing. They could be anywhere, there were so many other states close enough for them to go to. If Martin switched vehicles, they could still be moving with little risk of getting caught. Hours went by with little progress and Dani only grew more worried for Gil and Malcolm.

Then, it turned out she had been right before. JT had been keeping something to himself ever since he came back from seeing Edrisa. He wouldn’t look at her when he spoke, he probably felt the judgement in her eyes as he shared a new development that had happened literally right under their noses without their knowledge.

“We got new information this morning, someone managed to make contact with Martin Whitly. He was cocky enough to answer the phone with both Bright and Gil in the room with him. Bright was sedated and a little out of it, but Gil managed to tell us something. Apparently, they’re in a place Bright knows, somewhere he’s been before.”

Colette looked offended that he would’ve kept all of this to himself for that long, and Dani had to agree with her this time. It was information critical to their investigation. They should’ve been working on that already. And who was that someone who managed to call Martin? How did they accomplish that? They had techs tracking Gil’s phone constantly, they would know if it had been turned on again, they’d have a location for it the second it happened.

“What we need you both to do, Dr Higa, Dr Le Deux, is make a list of locations that could mean something to Martin Whitly and Bright. Places they’d talked about, places they’d been either together or alone. Anything, and then compare both of your lists with each other, try to find a connection somewhere.”

Dr Higa and Dr Le Deux went to work on that right away. It felt good to finally have a lead, something to go on. Dani pulled JT into the hallway. Colette followed, clearly wanting to do the same thing, but she didn’t say a word and let Dani handle it for now.

“Is that what you were hiding when you came back from autopsy? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I knew it wouldn’t go over well. You two have been arguing for two days, I didn’t want to put oil on the fire by telling you Edrisa and Ainsley called Martin Whitly without informing us first. Especially after Edrisa told me they did it that way because she was afraid Colette would interrogate Ainsley about her brother and upset her with her theory that he’s a murderer.”

“Two men are missing, kidnapped by one of the most notorious serial killers of the 20th century, I think we have more important things to worry about than hurt feelings.”

“See, Colette, that is exactly why Edrisa wanted to keep Ainsley away from you. She already feels bad enough as it is that her father used her to lure Gil out, she doesn’t need you to make it worse. We all owe it to Bright to protect his sister for him. It’s what he would want us to do.”

“What else was said in that phone call, do you know?” Dani asked.

“Nothing that helps us. Martin mostly rambled on. Edrisa said she’d work on enhancing the background noises and would come up with any update. I guess she didn’t find anything.”

“How did Ainsley even get a number to call Martin on?”

“Apparently she found a phone in the bird’s cage. Martin used it to spy on us while we were there, right before he took Gil.”

Every time they got a lead, it proved Malcolm right. Martin had spent a lot of time planning all of this. All they did was find crumbs of his plans left behind. Things he’d already planned for them to find. He never would’ve answered that phone call if he’d thought it’d get him caught. Even that little bit of information Gil had managed to get through must’ve been a calculated risk, it would take a lot of time, hours, likely even days, for them to get anywhere with that.

Their chances were slim and there was no telling how much longer Gil would be kept alive. They needed Martin to make a mistake, to have something he hadn’t thought about throw him off. They had thought John Watkins’s murder would be it, because Martin couldn’t have predicted Malcolm’s kidnapping and revenge rarely lead to thoroughly thought plans. But it hadn’t been. The small hint of hope Dani had regained was fading again.

\- - - - -

The door to the bathroom was open. Gil was laying fully clothed in the filled bath. One of his legs was kicking the wall, the other lay limp on the side, splashes of water turning pink as they dripped down his pant leg covered in dried blood. Martin was holding his head under the surface. Water was spilling over the sides as he struggled against him, just like tears were falling down Malcolm’s face.

All of this was his fault. Literally this time. Gil’s broken leg was a direct result of Malcolm’s actions. The previous morning, he used his bobby pin to get out of his restraints while his father was out, but he waited too long to do it, it took too much time, and he got caught before he even made it out of the room. Martin had brought Malcolm back to the bed, kicking and screaming, then he’d taken a hammer and broken Gil’s tibia to punish Malcolm. If he hadn’t stopped to free Gil and try to drag him away, he might’ve been able to make it and get help. Or maybe he could’ve gone to look out the window and figure out where exactly they were, maybe if he’d made it out of this room, he would’ve known. This room looked familiar, the tree he could see by the window looked familiar, but he was sure he’d never set foot in here before. It had to be a room unknown to him in a house where he’d been in the past. Without the bobby pin, and with a brand new cast, there was little hope for another chance at escaping, even if the belt holding his head in place was a bit looser. Tying up a conscious and resisting hostage wasn’t as easy or effective as one that was passed out.

He could share the blame for the drowning with Gil. While Malcolm had tried to pass a message to Ainsley, he’d failed. He had been fighting against the sedation and could barely get a word out. But Gil had figured out what he was trying to do and had done it himself. They both knew it would result in pain, but they didn’t have many other options. So Malcolm had to watch while Martin forced Gil’s head underwater, making him struggle for every breath.

“Dr Whitly, please, stop it, you’re gonna kill him!”

“He said he was thirsty.” Martin laughed as dread filled Malcolm. They weren’t gonna get out of this unscathed, if they stayed here a while, Gil might actually die. “Ah, come on, my boy, you know that was funny.”

“Please.”

Malcolm sobbed. He hated this. He hated being reduced to begging like this. When he was the one being hurt, he was stronger. He kept fighting, profiling, trying to stay the smartest man in the room in order to get out of this. But watching helplessly as Gil got tortured in front of him was breaking him. He was getting desperate and he had no idea how to win the upper hand against his father. He’d always thought he could outsmart him, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. It had been almost two days now and every attempt he’d made had failed. And every time, Gil got additional injuries. With every hour that passed, Gil endured more hurt and Malcolm didn’t know how much more of this either of them could take.

“Dad, I’m begging you, please, stop.”

There was no other option. He’d tried to detach himself and keep talking to him formally like he always did, but Gil was getting visibly weaker. He was kicking less and less. He was thrashing with less fervour. Malcolm had to do something, anything. So he decided to give Martin what he wanted, what he’d asked him, and Ainsley, to do multiple times. He let go of all the distance he kept between them and called him dad.

It worked. When he heard the word, Martin let go of Gil and turned to look at his son. Relief washed over Malcolm. Gil sat up, gasping for air. He seemed confused as to why he wasn’t being held down anymore, why no one was even paying him any attention. There was still fear in his eyes, but at least he was safe for now. Malcolm hated himself. He felt nothing but disgust at the words coming out of his mouth, but Gil was alive and it was all that mattered.

“What did you say, my boy?”

Of course, Martin couldn’t simply enjoy the win. He had to twist the knife, make sure Malcolm felt it deep inside. He had to make him repeat it. Long seconds passed without a word. When his son stayed silent, Martin lifted his arm in Gil’s direction, slowly. The reaction was immediate. Gil fumbled trying to get as far from him as possible, which was difficult as he kept slipping down in the bathtub.

“Leave him alone! Please, dad, it’s enough.”

As he looked past the grin on Martin’s face, Malcolm could see Gil’s expression break. The pain in the man’s eyes hurt him more than anything. Gil knew how much this meant, how bad it was that Malcolm would go this far. From here, Malcolm could see the resignation build in his face, the realisation that his time was counted. Neither of them knew how long it would take for Martin to get bored of this, but they knew that whenever he did, Gil was not part of the next step of the plan. Malcolm was desperate to keep him alive as long as he could, hoping that if enough days passed, the team would find them. If they just held on long enough, Dani and JT would figure it out and save them.

“Finally.” Martin rose and walked back into the bedroom. “I’ve been waiting so long to hear that again.”

“Maybe you should’ve tried being a good father and actually be there for your son. Getting locked up for killing nearly two dozen people makes it hard to build bonds with your children.”

Why would Gil bring Martin’s attention back on him? He could barely breathe, talking sounded like a lot of effort. Was he trying to protect him somehow? Malcolm wasn’t the one in danger. No matter what happened, his father wouldn’t kill him, if he was ever going to kill him, he would’ve done it twenty years ago on that camping trip.

“Did that work for you, Gil? Did _my_ son ever call you dad?”

‘Oh, Gil, if you have the slightest instinct of survival, do not answer that’, Malcolm thought. He tried to convey that in the way he looked back at him.

“What does it matter? I was there for him, I helped raise him, I picked him up when he was down and comforted him. While you were locked in a cell, unaware of anything going on in his life.”

Martin was getting angry, he was turning away from Malcolm again.

“It doesn’t matter, none of that matters. You’re free now, you can be there now. Forget about Gil, I’m here.”

“You’re right, it’s almost time for your meds anyway.”

When Martin went back into the bathroom, Malcolm’s breath caught in his throat, but all he did was drain the bathtub. Then he pulled Gil out of it and back into the bedroom where he tied him up to the chair again. Blood was spilling down Gil’s broken leg again and he was dripping water on the floor. Malcolm watched him shiver, barely paying attention to his father as he came and sat by his side on the bed. Martin reached over and gently pushed Malcolm’s hair out of his face.

“I’m sorry this is all so hard for you, Malcolm. But you hurt me pretty bad when you called the police on me. You have to understand that. I know when you do, we can start over and become closer than ever. Now, how about some dinner?”

Martin smiled and left the room. Malcolm stared emptily in front of him, dreading whatever horror his father had planned for them in the coming days.

\- - - - -

Dinner had gone about as well as you’d expect. The last two days had been hard on his son, so Martin couldn’t really blame him for trying to resist him. He knew Malcolm wasn’t much of an eater to start with. Nevertheless, they’d made it through. Martin was just finishing up washing the dishes. He’d never spent much time in this kitchen before, but the view from its window was exquisite even in the dead of winter. He could only imagine what it could be like at its prime.

Martin settled in front of the tv in the den with a glass of wine. He always enjoyed the news. He didn’t know why, it was always riddled with bad things. Maybe it was the fact none of those bad news were about him. Unfortunately, when he worked at the hospital, he didn’t have much time to sit down and watch them. He wished he had. He wished he could’ve sat on the couch with his arms around Jessica every night with that same glass of wine after dinner. But it wasn’t the life he chose. He chose to save lives instead of living his to the fullest. It was a sacrifice, but he had still been disgustingly happy back then.

Things were going pretty well for him currently too. He was free after all. No one would ever think to look for him here. He’d taken a lot of precautions. Of course, the company left something to be desired, but Malcolm would come around eventually. With time, maybe they could even get Ainsley to join them, once they found a more permanent place to stay. As for Gil, well, he never intended to keep him with them forever. His children would forget about him soon enough.

Martin had thought he could still have some fun with Gil and Malcolm for a while. After all, he was a surgeon, he could always fix the man to keep him from dying and then hurt him some more. It changed when Ainsley came on. He was always happy to see her on screen, he’d really enjoyed talking to her that morning, even though she’d been a little unpleasant. Her report that night, however, gave him news he wasn’t expecting.

Martin had known it was risky. He had been careful too. It still shortened the timeline for his plan. He would have to accelerate things. He ran back upstairs, entered the guest room and put a smile on his face.

“Fun’s over, let’s get to the main event! We don’t have much time, seems your friends are closing in on us.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Forty-eight hours after the abductions of Lieutenant Gil Arroyo and NYPD consultant Malcolm Bright, a new development has just been made in the search for Martin Whitly, aka The Surgeon, who escaped custody two weeks ago. A Long Island citizen called the NYPD tip line this afternoon. They reportedly saw Whitly enter a local pharmacy late yesterday morning to purchase a variety of medical supplies. A source confirms that Malcolm Bright was already injured at the moment of his disappearance, prompting the necessity of this trip. It is unknown why this person waited so long to call, but police and loved ones of the victims are grateful for the valuable information. This was Ainsley Whitly, with breaking news.”

\- - - - -

All the injuries he’d sustained didn’t matter to him. The broken leg, the broken finger, the cuts and bruises, the burns, the ribs that felt like they might be cracked by now. What hurt him most of all was watching how much pain his kid, his city boy, was in. The fear and despair in Malcolm’s face was the worst part of it all. He couldn’t stand hearing him beg Martin to stop. And the way he’d begged him to stop calling him Bright in front of his father because it was only getting him punched almost convinced him. Just now, Malcolm had put down the wall he’d put up between him and his father to protect himself and decided to call Martin, dad. It broke Gil’s heart. Even if it had been to help him, to stop him from drowning, he wished it didn’t have to be done.

Gil was freezing. The room was warm, but he was drenched from head to toe in cold water. It felt as though he was wet all the way through to the bone. His hair had fallen into his face and water kept getting into his eyes, blurring his vision. It was just as well, at least this way he couldn’t see the pained, practically blank look on Malcolm’s face. He tried to stop shivering, to get his body to adapt its temperature despite the wet clothes. For a second, he worried about catching a cold, then thought it was silly. A cold was the least of his concerns, there was so much more to worry about. Like his leg. He didn’t know how long it could go without medical attention before he risked permanent damage. Which was ironic when he thought about it, considering there was a surgeon right downstairs.

There wasn’t much to do while they waited for Martin to get back. Usually they would talk, but his throat felt like it was on fire from all the water he’d breathed in and coughed out. So he settled on pretending he was a detective, trying to deduce their location. The decor suggested money, as did the fact a guest room had a private bathroom attached. It made sense. Malcolm came from a rich family, he would’ve gone to a variety of places owned by those kinds of people in the past. Gil did find it familiar too. He knew for certain he had never been here, but there was a feeling he couldn’t describe that gave him a sense of comfort and familiarity.

When they’d gotten back to the city, after getting Malcolm at the cabin, Gil knew they were in trouble. The team would be looking for them out there in the woods, in New Jersey, possibly in another cabin. They would never think Martin would drive right back to New York. They had to be in one of Jessica’s properties. Or at a house owned by people the Whitlys knew well enough that Martin would be sure they’d be out of town. Somewhere Dani and JT wouldn’t think to look.

The place was big enough that screams couldn’t carry outside. Gil had fallen asleep shortly after they crossed the bridge into New York, but Martin had woken him up when they’d arrived. He’d parked the car in a spacious garage that already contained two other expensive cars. He’d led him through the house at gunpoint all the way to that upstairs guest room. It was a beautiful place, under different circumstances, he would’ve loved being there. They had walked through it too quickly for Gil to be able to get a good look at the family photos hanging on the wall of the living room, but he’d noticed all the furniture was covered. Wherever they were was set not to be used for a long time. Malcolm had been carried upstairs still unconscious and hadn’t gotten a chance to see anything besides this guest room.

Gil was brought out of his line of thought when Martin came back with the tray that he set on the bed again. On it were two plates and two glasses of water, like every previous meal Malcolm had barely touched. It smelled delicious. Gil was surprised that a man who used to live in a house that included cooking staff, and had been very busy between his work at the hospital and all the murders, actually knew how to prepare food well. He couldn’t possibly have learned that at Claremont. Gil could feel his mouth watering. He was so hungry. He’d barely had anything to eat in two days.

“We’re having pasta tonight. It’s my mother’s recipe, you used to love it as a child, remember?”

Malcolm didn’t even look at him. He kept staring at the wall, unaffected by what was going on around him. Now that his face had dried enough to keep water out of his eyes, Gil could see Malcolm’s eyes, but there was nothing in them. He was losing hope. Martin tried to get him to take the fork, but he didn’t move.

“Malcolm, my boy, you have to eat.”

“I keep telling you I don’t.”

“Try it, I know you’ll love it.”

“Gil needs it more than I do. He gets half my plate or I don’t eat anything.”

“Don’t be unreasonable.”

“You said yesterday that I needed food to heal my hand. Gil is hurt, he needs to eat.”

Martin put some pasta on the fork and brought it to Malcolm’s mouth. He pushed against it until his son finally opened enough to let it through. As soon as the fork was out, Malcolm turned and spat the food back in Martin’s face, who looked at Gil and yelled.

“That’s what you taught my son all these years? To disrespect his own father?”

Speaking was painful. It took some effort, but he forced the words out anyway. Gil was taking a page from Malcolm’s book. When things were hard, he relied on humour to make himself, and others around him, feel better. It couldn’t hurt to try it.

“No, I’m pretty sure that was all Jessica. I try to teach him to let criminals like you rot in their cells alone, he never listens to me.”

Martin turned back to Malcolm and brought another bite of food to his mouth.

“I will hurt Gil. Eat!”

Malcolm spat out the pasta again.

“Your threat has no weight, I know you’ll hurt him anyway. So what’s the point?”

There was a break in his voice. He didn’t want to see him hurt again, but he’d already given so much to his father without any sign that their situation could improve. Gil hated seeing him fall apart right before his eyes. Even finding him completely out of his mind with withdrawal after his last kidnapping didn’t tear at his heart this much.

Martin lost his patience. He grabbed his son’s jaw with his hand, forced it open and put food in it. Then he held his mouth and nose closed until Malcolm swallowed. He kept doing this until the plate was empty. Malcolm’s eyes were full of hatred and defiance as he stared at his father forcing food on him. Martin kept saying it was for his own good. Gil could feel tears start to form in his eyes. He wanted to stand and go over there, push Martin off his son. He wanted to punch the man for all of the hurt he was causing Malcolm.

“Get some rest now, my boy. It’s been a hard day, you’ll feel better in the morning. Maybe then you’ll remember your manners.”

Martin took the tray back and left. At least it meant they would get the evening to themselves without any more pain. They’d get a chance to regroup and deal with everything they’d been through the past two days. Just breathe, before a new day of suffering came upon them.

“Bright, look at me.”

Malcolm was staring down at his cast. The new one his father had just made this morning. He was moving his arm around, watching it the same way you would look at your hand in the water. Gil wondered what he was thinking about. He saw the cast as a reminder of all the bad things that Malcolm had to go through this past month. Plus, if he smacked himself in the face with his hand again, like he’d done the last two nights, he’d probably end up with a bruise. Malcolm had woken up from the pain in his hand, but he hadn’t looked surprised. Seemed the restraints on his bed at home were there for a reason.

“Hey, kid, look at me.”

Malcolm’s eyes slowly went up to meet his. He looked ashamed of what just happened, humiliated almost. It was clear he wanted to be alone, but was making an effort for him.

“I’m sorry, Bright. You don’t deserve any of this.”

“Neither do you. And this is all my fault.”

“You have to stop that. It’s not your fault. You did the right thing calling the police on him. And before you say anything, I don’t blame you for my leg, trying to escape was the only thing to do.”

“But I failed, and now you’re hurt worse.”

“Like you said before, he would’ve hurt me anyway. That’s what he brought me here for.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Malcolm was sobbing now and Gil wished he could wrap him in his arms and comfort him. There was so little he could do from where he was. He tried moving the chair closer, but he was afraid the noise would bring Martin back.

“Don’t worry, the team will find us. They will figure this out and they will get to us.”

“We’re here and we can’t figure this out. I know this place and I can’t remember what house this is. How are they supposed to do it?”

“They’re not in quite so much distress as you are, for starters. And there’s a whole team of them. Trust me, they’ll come for us.”

“What if it’s too late?”

Gil knew what he meant by that. What if the team got here after he’d already been killed? What if they found Martin, Malcolm and his body? He’d rather not think about this now, they likely had a few more days before it came to that. Plenty of time for the team, with Jessica and Ainsley’s help, to figure out where they were.

He missed them. He missed the team, they were his family, like the children he never had. And he missed Jessica. He didn’t know how they always ended up standing so close to each other, but it felt natural, good even. If he were to ever let himself move on, it would be with her. And he knew Jackie would approve.

It was silent for a while. Gil didn’t know what else to say and Malcolm obviously didn’t feel like talking. It was strange, he usually could never shut up. Gil thought he was being annoying so much of the time, yet now he wished that’s how he would be. Overly excited and energetic despite all the lack of sleep. The silence was uncomfortable, until it was broken by rapid steps on the stairs. Martin was coming back. He entered the room, put on an ominous smile and said.

“Fun’s over, let’s get to the main event! We don’t have much time, seems your friends are closing in on us.”

Panic immediately filled Malcolm’s eyes. Gil was relieved that he’d been right about the team, but Martin’s demeanor suggested they weren’t in so much of a rush. They still had plenty of time to do whatever it was Martin had planned. A sense of calm washed over Gil. That was it. They were reaching the end of the count. His life may only have a few hours left to it, if even that.

Martin walked over to the bed and pulled a pair of shackles from the bag. Malcolm scuttled away, folding his legs up to his chest the second the restraints were taken off his ankles. He was still tied up to the headboard, however, his entire upper body immobilised severely limiting his range of movement, and no amount of kicking toward his father could stop him from putting those shackles on him. Then, Martin undid the belt holding Malcolm’s head steady and freed his hand from its restraint. What was he planning? It didn’t bode well that Martin would make it impossible for Malcolm to run away once free. He hadn’t done that any other time. Whenever he’d let his son go to the bathroom, he never restricted his movements, he simply untied him and let him walk freely, trusting that he wouldn’t try anything while Martin was holding a knife to Gil’s throat. But this was different.

When his chest was untied from the bed, Malcolm immediately tried to get away. He looked absolutely terrified. He had this expression that made Gil think he knew what was coming. Whatever this main event was, it had to be something horrible for Malcolm to throw himself toward the door without even a glance at Gil. In his rush, he tripped over the shackles and fell off the bed.

“Now, my boy, be careful, you don’t want to break that cast again. It would seriously impair your recovery.”

Malcolm’s eyes went wide and he stood as quickly as he could, which wasn’t easy with his legs restrained and a broken hand. Martin didn’t move. He didn’t make any effort to try and stop him until he was already in the hallway. They heard him cry out a surprised “this is home,” and the sounds of the shackles were faster. With the realisation of their location, he walked with more assurance. He knew what to do, was probably going for a phone he knew where to find. Gil had seen a landline down in the living room. Only then did Martin decide to follow.

“Malcolm, come back. This is pointless, do you seriously think you can outrun me? Not as smart as I thought.”

There were sounds of struggle, a loud thump and then Malcolm was screaming in protest. Martin reappeared in the room, pulling his son behind him by the shackles as he tried to grab on to anything around him, but there was nothing and he only had one useful hand. Malcolm ended up sitting at Gil’s feet with his father standing over him.

“How long has it been since you’ve been here, Malcolm?”

He got no answer. Malcolm was staring down at the shackles on his feet, his lower lip trembling. Gil could see the tremor. How could Martin do this to someone he claimed to love? He had to see what all of this was doing to his son. Even if he wanted revenge for ruining his life, if he actually cared about him at all, wouldn’t he want to avoid destroying him?

“I haven’t been here in over twenty years. The place hasn’t changed at all. Tell me, how long has it been for you?”

Martin put his hand under Malcolm’s chin and forced him to look at him.

“I’m not sure. Maybe the summer after high school. I never much liked the Hamptons.”

The Whitlys’ Hamptons home. It all made sense now. Malcolm hadn’t been here in so long, and Gil had never set foot inside. He’d only ever seen the place from the outside when he’d come to pick up Malcolm to bring him back to the city. It must’ve felt familiar because Jessica would’ve been responsible for decorating, just like she did her house in New York where he’d spent plenty of time.

“Neither did I. It was more for your mother. Jessica always loved it here.” Martin smiled fondly at the memory. “Moving on! We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Martin grabbed Malcolm by the collar and pulled him up. It was the first time they’d all been so close since coming here. Gil hadn’t seen before how rumpled and dirty Malcolm’s clothes had gotten. There were traces of all the food he’d reluctantly let pass his lips. Sweat had also left marks, as well as blood from when Martin worked on his hand. His eyes were sunken, which Gil could have predicted, neither of them had gotten much sleep since the escape, even less here. The kid looked a mess, like he was barely holding on to his sanity.

Apprehension was palpable in the room. Gil didn’t know how long they still had, but it couldn’t be that much. Martin probably had a plan for getting himself and Malcolm away as soon as Gil had been taken care of. He looked too relaxed for a man who knew the police was on their way to capture him. Whatever information he knew they had couldn’t be their location, probably something they had to check on that would eventually lead them here, but not quickly enough. The Hamptons was a two-hour drive from New York, giving Martin plenty of time.

Malcolm’s hand was shaking heavily as Martin handed him the knife. He took a few steps back, but his father put his arm around his shoulders and walked him back to Gil. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, only more powerless. He couldn’t jump out of the way before it was too late, he was trapped. Gil could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to find a way out of this.

“I want you to hurt him. You’re _my_ son, not his. It’s time to let go of him.”

“Never.”

For a second, Gil thought Malcolm would let the knife drop, but then he saw him straightening his grip on it. His expression was hard to read. There was no telling what he was thinking. Malcolm closed his eyes for an instant and took in a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were full of resignation and the look he gave Gil did nothing to reassure him. Malcolm managed to slip under his father’s arm and put a few steps between them. Then he brought the knife up to his own throat.

“Bright, what are you doing?”

Gil didn’t even care that he’d get punched, but Martin was too preoccupied to pay him any attention. He took a tentative step toward his son, but stopped when Malcolm pushed the knife into his skin. He looked insane, and only had eyes for his father.

“What if I kill myself instead? What then?”

“My boy, you don’t want to do that.”

“Don’t I?”

“That’s a little overdramatic, even for you.”

“Seems like it would solve all my problems. You couldn’t manipulate me anymore. It would thwart all of the plans you have for us. Plus, no one could get hurt because of me anymore. Everyone would be better off.”

“Bright, no! Don’t say things like that.”

Gil had known for a while now that Malcolm wasn’t all that attached to his life, that he felt it might not be worthwhile. There had been instances over the years where he’d gotten hurt and neither Jessica nor Gil were entirely convinced it had been an accident. Hearing him say it out loud like that broke his heart. It wasn’t about putting his life in danger to save others this time. Nothing he could do would stop Martin from killing Gil. Malcolm felt so guilty about the situation they were in that he thought he should die to avoid that kind of thing from happening again.

“Well, you know what, Malcolm, why don’t you do it? I would love to see the look on Gil’s face when your blood comes splashing all around him. I don’t think anything I could do would cause him that much pain. So, go ahead, kill yourself, and destroy the man who destroyed my life. I might just thank you for it.”

When Martin first started talking, in this almost calm, casual tone, Gil was horrified. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could he encourage his own son to do this? Then he understood. It was a bluff, another mind game, but this time to get Malcolm to come back to reason. It was smart, and unsurprisingly well executed coming from a master at manipulation.

Malcolm’s eyes shifted toward Gil and his resolve fell. He lowered the knife just a little, but it was enough for Martin to get to him and grab him. Malcolm’s eyebrows jumped and he started struggling as his father brought him back toward Gil. He tried to use the knife against him, but Martin took his arm in his hand and held it firmly away from him.

“I said you will hurt him and you will.”

“No.”

Malcolm thrashed harder than ever. He hit Martin in the head with his cast, but he didn’t budge. His father held him so tightly that even when he took both his feet off the ground to kick at Martin’s legs, he didn’t fall. Malcolm kept at it a few minutes until he realised it was no use, he wouldn’t overpower him. He stopped struggling, but he was still shaking. Tears started streaming down his face as he stared at the ground, defeated.

“It’s okay, kid, it’s okay. Look at me, it’s okay. I’ll still love you.”

He lifted his eyes to meet his. They were so full of pain, guilt and fear. Gil tried to fill his own with all the love he had for the kid, tried to make it clear he didn’t think any of it was his fault. He shouldn’t feel bad about this, it was all Martin’s doing, and there was nothing either of them could’ve done to stop it. Still, despite his father’s insistence, Malcolm didn’t move. He couldn’t get himself to. And Martin was losing patience quickly. They were losing precious time, the more minutes went by the closer the team was getting to finding them.

It all happened so fast. One second, they were all frozen in place, nothing happening, the next he was dying. Martin couldn’t wait for Malcolm anymore, so he pushed him on Gil. There is this instinct human beings have to put their hands in front of them when they fall, to protect their head from hitting the ground. It’s a reflex, you can’t stop it. Even if you know it’s a bad idea, even if you know it won’t help, your brain will still activate it. It will always try and do everything it can to protect your head from getting hurt. And that’s how the knife in Malcolm’s hand lodged itself in Gil’s abdomen, angled up into his ribcage.

Malcolm’s eyes widened. He started to panic. Gil was in shock. His breathing hitched from the pain. And it only got worse once Martin pulled his son, and the knife, away from him. With nothing stopping the blood from exiting the wound, it started flooding out of him. It became harder to breathe. Malcolm threw himself back at him to put his hands on him, to try and stop the bleeding. His father didn’t try to stop him. It didn’t matter what he did now. Gil needed medical attention, and the Surgeon wouldn’t give him any.

“Good. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but it actually might be better. Now it’s time to leave.”

Malcolm looked back at him in disbelief.

“What’s wrong? It’s not like you’ve never stabbed anyone before. You did the same thing to John when you were only a boy.”

“Because he was going to kill me. For you!”

“Oh now, Malcolm, this is hardly the time to rehash the past. Police are on the way. And I don’t believe they’ll be too happy to see what you’ve done.”

Martin picked up the knife and freed Gil. He let the weapon drop to the floor, then pulled his son up and forced him to walk out of the room with him. Gil immediately put his hand to his stomach, doing his best to stop himself from bleeding out and followed them. Putting any kind of weight on his broken leg was excruciating, he couldn’t keep himself up and fell. Malcolm turned back and helped him up. He put his arm around him to support him and kept going. Martin watched, slightly exasperated at the time they were losing, making such slow progress across the house. But they were moving, cooperating, so he didn’t say anything.

It took a while, the stairs were particularly difficult, but they finally made it into the garage. Gil worried. He tried to hide it from Malcolm, because the boy still seemed to think he could save him, but there was no way Martin was planning on taking him with them. Gil wasn’t making it out of that house. They leaned against the wall as Martin walked a bit further, looking around.

“It is highly convenient for me that your mother would leave all of my cars here. We have options. Now, let’s think. The police are already looking for Gil’s car, the Lamborghini would draw too much attention. I know, let’s take the... Wait, where’s the Porsche?”

“What?”

Gil knew that tone too well. It was the face Malcolm made whenever he got caught having done something he knew would get him into trouble. Apparently, it was automatic. Even in the amount of distress Malcolm was in, he couldn’t help switching to that faked innocence. Martin saw right through it.

“My boy, where is my Porsche?”

“It was totalled.”

Malcolm wouldn’t look at him when he said it. He was back to being a little boy, ashamed of what he’d done, scared of what his father would say about it.

“What?”

“One summer in high school, I took it out one night and crashed it.”

Gil remembered that. Jessica had called him in tears to tell him Malcolm was in the hospital. He’d been in a car accident. He’d just gotten his learner’s permit a few weeks earlier, he wasn’t supposed to be driving alone. When Gil had gotten there, Malcolm had explained himself to him, crying about as much as his mother. “I’m all alone out here. Mom and Ainsley have all of their friends, but I have no one. I just wanted to see you and Jackie.” He’d melted and hugged him close. Then he’d convinced Jessica to let her son stay with him for the remainder of the summer. He’d spent many of his days off sitting in his car, helping Malcolm get some driving practice. All the memories he had with this kid, he couldn’t believe this is how their story was going to end.

“You crashed my Porsche? What did your mother say?”

“What were you thinking? You could’ve killed yourself.”

Gil was impressed at how accurately Malcolm could mimic Jessica’s tone. Though he shouldn’t be so surprised, he must’ve heard her say those exact words millions of times over the years. Malcolm had done, and kept doing, plenty of stupid things that got him hurt.

“She’s right, but it’s not what I meant. What did she say about the car?”

“What does it matter? I was fine and no one was using it.”

“I would’ve used it today! Now we’ll have to take the convertible out, in January.”

“That’s not going to stand out.”

“I’m dying and you two are arguing about something that happened over a decade ago?”

Gil regretted saying it the moment the words passed his lips. Malcolm’s face fell immediately. Gil hadn’t meant to make him feel bad about it. It was just a comment in passing, a joke about the irony of the moment.

“I really liked that car. You, not so much.”

“Dad, please. Fix him. We don’t have to take him with us, but please don’t let him die.”

Desperation was clear in Malcolm’s voice, it was clear in the words he used. He never would’ve said “dad” if he hadn’t been pleading for Gil’s life. All three of them knew that. They were all aware of the severity of the situation. Martin was working to get out of there before police came. Malcolm was doing everything he could to save Gil. And Gil, well, he was starting to face the facts and they weren’t good. He knew it wouldn’t end well for him. And Martin didn’t look nearly stressed enough for him to dare hope the team would get here in time.

Martin walked to Gil’s car and opened the trunk. It contained a variety of supplies he’d needed to get them there, a second duffle bag and Gil’s things. Martin opened the bag and pulled out some clothes that he threw at Malcolm while ordering him to change. He then proceeded to move everything to the convertible, the supplies and the bag in the trunk, Gil’s things in the glove compartment. He came back to them holding Gil’s handcuffs.

“Malcolm, I told you to change, we don’t have all day.”

“I’m not going anywhere, or doing anything until you help Gil.”

“Alright, let me put it like this, you can either change into clean clothes, or I can kill Gil faster.”

Malcolm stared back at him for a moment, then gave Gil an apologetic glance before he looked down at the clothes his father had given him.

“Are those mine?”

“Did you really think your meds were the only thing I got for you while I was at your place?”

Malcolm exchanged his dirty shirt and pants for one of his favourite three-piece suit. Gil thought he looked characteristically overdressed and it made him smile. If this was the last time he saw this kid, this was how he wanted to remember him. Trying his best to save someone’s life and dressed to the nines for no good reason.

Confusion filled Malcolm’s face when his eyes fell back on Gil. It was quickly replaced by fear when Martin grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the convertible. Malcolm resisted. He tripped over his shackles in his attempt to stay near Gil. Martin caught him, wrapped his arms around him and carried him to the car. He handcuffed his good hand to the passenger door handle and went back toward Gil.

“Gil, run!”

Malcolm had come as close as he could. His right arm was extended behind him, and he was pulling on it, trying his hardest to come closer. It broke Gil’s heart to see him in so much pain. He wished he could make it go away. He would do anything for him, he would even try to run like he asked if he could. But his hand was barely slowing the blood that was spilling out of him. He struggled harder and harder to breathe. The simple act of standing there against the wall was so demanding he could feel sweat beading across his forehead. He didn’t have the strength to run anymore. He’d gotten too weak to put up a fight.

Everything after that felt like it was happening in slow motion. Martin put his arm around him and forced him to come with him. Malcolm, tears spilling down his face, screamed “NOOO!” as Gil was pushed down in the trunk of his own car. The door closed over him. He heard more protests from Malcolm, the garage door opening and a car pulling away. Malcolm’s screams became more distant, the garage door closed and silence engulfed him.

Here, in the darkness, alone, it almost felt like he was already in a coffin. The only difference being the lack of space to extend his legs and the fact he was still alive. For now. He started feeling cold. He couldn’t tell how much blood he’d lost so far, but he couldn’t have all that long left. It felt suiting in a way that his life would end in this car.

He loved this car. It held so many memories. Good and bad. Jackie had always loved it as well. They had spent many hours driving around in it, just the two of them. They’d gone on trips, and on late night drives. They’d eaten ice cream in it after getting out of the doctor who’d announced she was sick. They’d talked at lengths about their plans for their lives. They’d gone to the drive through movie theater an innumerable amount of times, they would even take the Whitly kids with them once they came into their lives. Malcolm had almost crashed it when he was learning to drive. It was in this car that he’d driven the kid to college, he’d given him so many lifts over the years. This car was where they’d had that difficult conversation after Jackie noticed scars on Malcolm’s wrists. It was also where the kid announced he’d gotten accepted to Quantico. Everything happened in this car, it only made sense for it all to end here.

His eyelids felt heavy now. And he was so cold. He’d had a good life. He only wished he could’ve said goodbye to everyone. He hadn’t gotten a real goodbye with Malcolm, he should’ve said something in those last moments. He couldn’t believe he’d never see Jessica again. And the team, and Ainsley.

He let his eyes close. It was too dark to make a difference.

His hand slipped from where it was putting pressure on the stab wound.

He felt himself drift off. He couldn’t hold on to consciousness anymore.

\- - - - -

After all this time, they finally had a solid lead. Martin hadn’t planned for his son being injured, had to go buy supplies at a pharmacy and had been spotted. A team was already on their way to canvas the whole area for clues. It had been a day, so chances were slim but they wanted to be as thorough as they could. They also had people looking over security camera footage for the store and surrounding streets, trying to figure out where Martin was headed after he left.

JT was standing in Jessica Whitly’s living room next to Dani. They’d come to ask for her help narrowing things down. Martin was in a completely different area than they’d thought and they needed her input. They’d also brought the list of possible locations that Dr Higa and Dr Le Deux had built. At least it was their intention to do so before Ainsley walked in and Colette got distracted.

“Ainsley Whitly. The woman who got Gil exposed so Martin could grab him. Now you reported that tip we got about his location on live tv. Are you actively trying to help your father or are you just that stupid?”

“I never meant to get Gil hurt.”

Ainsley seemed on the verge of tears. JT was so used to seeing the strong, self-assured woman on the news, it made him uncomfortable to see her so vulnerable. She reminded him of his brother in this moment. He could see the same effort to make herself appear alright, when it was clear for anyone, any detective at least, to see that something was troubling her. She probably felt guilty about all of that already and Colette rubbing it in only made her feel worse.

“And yet, your reports compromise our investigation. You’re aware Martin Whitly watches them, aren’t you? He could already be on his way to a new hiding place, thanks to you.”

“Leave my daughter alone.”

Jessica stepped in, her tone protective and firm.

“Your daughter is aiding a serial killer get away with kidnapping a NYPD lieutenant. But then, you married Martin Whitly, you even kept his name, maybe you’re in on it too.”

Jessica slapped her. Colette put her hand up to her already reddening cheek. JT felt pride watching it. Colette had been getting on his nerves ever since she got to New York. She’d been judging this entire family for the simple fact that they were related to Martin Whitly, without even making an effort to get to know them. This time, she’d gone too far, she deserved that slap.

“Stop harassing my children, they are mine not his. Ainsley was only doing her job, it's not her fault you can't do yours and keep information from leaking out to the media. If she hadn't reported it, someone else would've. And shouldn’t you be out there looking for Gil and my son right now instead of bullying my daughter?”

Colette was still too taken aback to answer, so Dani decided to jump in before things escalated any further.

“That’s why we’re here. We came to ask you if you could think of any place around that Long Island pharmacy where Martin could be?”

“No. It’s halfway to the Hamptons, we would stop around there sometimes on the way when the kids were little, but there’s nothing there. No place for him to stay.”

“The Hamptons. Isn’t it on our list?”

When she paused and turned to him, JT took the list out of his pocket and confirmed it.

“You have a home there, don’t you? Is it empty right now?”

“Of course, we close it down for the winter.”

“I assume you have a security system for it, to prevent squatters. When is the last time you changed the code?”

“I...” Understanding seemed to dawn on Jessica. She lost her composure, but only for a second. “How was I supposed to know Martin would escape and decide to go there? He never liked the Hamptons. And you told us he took my son in New Jersey, that he must be in a cabin somewhere around there.”

“We were wrong.” JT admitted. “We’re sorry for that. But we will get your son back.”

JT, Dani and Colette thanked the Whitlys and ran out. They drove sirens blazing the entire way to the Hamptons. Thankfully, there wasn’t much traffic this time of year, especially in the evening like this. They called for additional units to join them there. Within two hours they had the house surrounded. All they could do now was hope they weren’t too late.

They did a sweep of the house. It was empty, but it was the right place. The kitchen showed signs of having been recently used. The bed in the master bedroom was undone. But the real giveaway was one of the guest rooms, yes one of, these people were rich enough to have a second home with multiple guest rooms, each with its own bathroom. There were belts and restraints on the bed. A chair was placed in the middle of the room. Cut rope, pieces of zip ties and a bloody knife on the floor around it, in a puddle of water and blood, a lot of it. Traces of blood were scattered everywhere in that area of the room, though the bed seemed mostly free of it. A duffle bag had been left there. It contained supplies that could only have been meant for torture, including a lighter and booster cables.

A trail of drops of blood led from that room to the garage where Gil’s car was parked, next to a Lamborghini. They figured another car must’ve been there as well for Martin to leave in, they would have to ask Jessica about that later. JT took to searching the car while the others inspected the rest of the room. A gasp escaped him when he opened the trunk. Dani and Colette were immediately by his side. Gil lied in there, unconscious, in a pool of blood. He was covered in bruises, cuts and burns. His clothes were wet, his left leg was broken and blood was still spilling from a stab wound to his abdomen. His breathing was ragged and his pulse was weak, but he was alive.

They weren’t too late.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took longer for this one, I've been struggling a bit with writer's block. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments on the last one though, I really like reading your thoughts!

“After a little over 48 hours, Lieutenant Gil Arroyo of NYPD Major Crimes was found earlier this evening. He sustained multiple injuries, but the doctors are confident that he will pull through. There is still no sign of Martin Whitly who left his hiding place before police got there. Authorities believe he still holds his son, Malcolm Bright, who wasn’t found at the house where Whitly kept his two hostages. We have no further information at the moment as this is a still developing story. This was Ainsley Whitly with a late night update.”

\- - - - -

Stars illuminated the sky. Jessica always forgot about that. It was impossible to see them with all of the lights in the city, but out here in the Hamptons it was almost magical. The only light in the room came from outside. The moon, stars and various city lights created a comforting glow. It almost made her feel good. Just as long as she didn’t look toward the bed. Gil hadn’t woken up yet. He seemed almost peaceful, there, asleep. His broken leg had been fixed with a cast, his broken finger was in a splint. There were bandages covering burns on his face and cuts on his arms. His neck was purple with bruises. There was a tube in his throat to let a machine breathe for him. But he was alive.

It had been a long evening. Once she’d made it to the hospital, it had been a tense drive there, Jessica had spent most of her time walking in circles in the waiting room while Gil was in surgery. Ainsley constantly tried to get her to sit, drink, eat. Colette had left after asking a few questions, mostly about the convertible they kept at their Hamptons home. Dani and JT had stayed. As eager as they were to find Malcolm, they also worried about Gil. They wanted to make sure he’d be fine before they went back to work. She understood that perfectly. She was anxious to get her son back, but there was nothing more they could do at that moment. Colette and the rest of the NYPD had it covered for the next few hours. They needed to be here with Gil.

Now it was just her. Dani and JT had left a little past one, after Gil had been brought to a room, Jessica had pulled some strings to get him a single. They needed to go back to work in the morning and it was a long drive back to the city. Martin was still out there with Malcolm. Adolfo had driven Ainsley home. There was no need for them all to stay here now, they could wait for him to wake up at work, or in bed. Jessica promised to call them as soon as something happened.

The room had been so quiet for so long, Jessica practically jumped when she heard a knock. She looked at the door, but no one was there. She turned to look at Gil when he knocked a second time on his bed’s side rail. He was awake, finally. She rushed to his side, a smile growing on her face.

“Gil, there you are!”

He seemed to be trying to speak, but the tube was making it impossible. It didn’t matter however, Jessica could easily figure out what he wanted to ask.

“The team found you passed out in the trunk of your car, you were in pretty bad shape. They had to rush you into surgery. The doctors think you’ll make a full recovery.” She could see the question in his eyes, she knew none of that mattered to him. But she needed a second to get to it. Otherwise, she was worried her voice might break before she could get the sentence out. “They haven’t found Malcolm yet. But don’t worry, I told them everything about that convertible Martin left with. Your team set up road blocks everywhere, they can’t get far.”

Her tone was as comforting as she could make it, but she was still anxious. Her son was still missing and there was nothing she wished for more than getting him back. She had been so relieved when she’d learned they’d found Gil alive and she’d been focusing on that ever since. She couldn’t let herself think about anything else. Better to throw herself entirely on making sure her friend was doing well rather than let herself fall down a rabbit hole of worst case scenarios.

After leaving messages on Ainsley and Dani’s phones to tell them he’d woken up, Jessica finally allowed herself to sit. She stared up at Gil, glad to have him back and let herself relax. There was something indiscernible in his expression alongside the pain and worry. She tried to decipher it, but she was exhausted and fell asleep in her chair before she could analyse it properly.

“Jessica.”

It took her a minute to remember where she was. The sun had risen. It hung low in the sky, it was still early. The bright light made Gil look even paler than before. It saddened her to see, even though she knew it was only a matter of time before he got back on his feet. Figuratively. It would take weeks, maybe months until he could put weight on his leg again. At least the breathing tube had been taken out, allowing him to talk. It also made him look a lot stronger.

“What is it? Do you need anything?”

She rose from her seat to go to his side.

“No, Jessica, I’m fine.” His voice was hoarse, likely from the intubation. It sounded painful for him to talk. “They brought me breakfast, and I managed to get a second tray for you.”

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary.”

“They told me you haven’t left the hospital since I got here. I let you sleep as long as I could, but you need to eat too.”

She wasn’t hungry. Or maybe she was physically, but she didn’t feel it. Worry, fear, sadness, relief, guilt, regret, fatigue, all of those emotions mixed inside her and washed over everything else. It cut her appetite, making her feel something akin to disgust with the simple thought of eating. She realised it must be what her son felt like every time she insisted he finished his plate at dinner, but he wouldn’t. He was in so much pain all the time, just like she was right now, he probably wasn’t very hungry either. She didn’t know whether it was a good or bad thing that she now understood him better.

“I’m fine, I assure you.”

“Jessica, I know hospital food isn’t really to your standards, but please, eat with me.”

Gil tapped down on the bed. Jessica sighed and sat on it, on the other side of the small table their breakfasts lay on. She picked up her fork, but stopped short of putting food on it.

“Did he... Did Martin feed you at all while you were there?”

Gil seemed to consider his answer before he spoke. “Malcolm managed to get him to give me a few bites. Wasn’t much, barely better than nothing, but I’m still grateful to your son for trying.”

“And Malcolm ate?”

“Against his will.” Gil smiled. “He really made it hard for Martin to take care of him.”

“Good. Nothing should come easy to that man.”

There were a few seconds of silence while they both started eating, then Gil added. “Malcolm is as strong as you, he will get through this.”

Jessica wasn’t sure she believed him. Her son was very strong, but Martin had such ability for destroying those who got close to him. Who knew what state Malcolm was even in now after two days with his father. She wanted to ask Gil more details, but she didn’t want to force him to relive what must’ve been a truly dreadful time.

Martin had managed to seep bad memories in a place that was gratefully exempt of them. The Hamptons were like a sanctuary. Every memory she had of him and her family there were good times. There was no murder, no arrest, nothing. It was all fun summer stuff. And now it was ruined. She would never again be able to go back there without seeing the burns on Gil’s face. He’d always been this tall, immovable tree to her. She could always lean on him. When she was lost, when she didn’t know what to do with Malcolm, he was there. Even when she wanted nothing to do with him, he never left. After her son left New York, they’d drifted apart. They hadn’t even talked for years, but he still welcomed her back into his life, like barely any time at all had passed. It broke her heart to see him injured and weak in this hospital bed.

She didn’t feel very strong herself these days. The man she married had escaped serial killer prison and she was all over the place. She hadn’t even been able to keep her son safe from him. Worse than that, she’d been so focused on him, it didn’t even cross her mind that Martin would seek revenge upon the man who arrested him and then became a father figure to Malcolm. She should’ve known.

“Where’s everyone else? Ainsley, the team. I thought they’d be here. I called them when you woke up.”

“Ainsley called early this morning, I convinced her to still go to work, she can come by later. I told her she shouldn’t feel guilty about what happened, it wasn’t her fault.”

“I’ve been trying to get her to understand that, but you know my children. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“You’re all so stubborn and eager to take the blame upon yourselves. I don’t think anything I say could change that.”

“And yet you never give up.” Since they were both done eating, Jessica rolled the table away from the bed so nothing was between them anymore. “What about your team?”

“They’re probably at work, very busy looking for Martin. I don’t blame them, I should be doing the same thing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t even stand.”

“If you got me a wheelchair, I’m sure I could go to the precinct and work on the case. I can’t just sit here while he still has Malcolm.”

“Yes you can, and you will. You are too weak to go anywhere. You need to give some time to your injuries to heal.”

As much as she wanted her son to be rescued as fast as possible, she could see Gil was in a lot of pain. Painkillers helped with his injuries, but it couldn’t appease his mind. She could only imagine what Martin had put him through the past two days as she made great effort to let him tell her on his own terms and not overwhelm him with questions. He was in no state to work. He needed to process everything first.

“I’m fine, I can still work. The knife barely scraped my lungs.”

“You sound like Malcolm. And it is not a compliment.”

“He needs me. This was all my fault. If I hadn’t gotten involved in his life, none of this would’ve happened. Martin is jealous of my bond with him, with you. He thinks I’m trying to replace him. And he tortured me to punish Malcolm. He used me to hurt him.”

“Look who’s blaming themselves for something they had nothing to do with. Truly part of the family now.”

“This is exactly what made Martin so angry. I arrested him and took his family from him.”

“Who cares about him or his feelings? Your team will find him and he will finally be put away for good.” Jessica let the fire drain from her, let herself soften. She felt comfortable enough to allow him to see past the wall of strength she always put up to protect herself. She reached forward and took his hand in hers. She looked him in the eyes, smiling. “Gil, you’re the father my son deserves. I’d much rather have you in my life than that monster.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Gil smiled warmly and she knew everything was going to be okay. No matter what happened, they would get through it. Him, her and the kids. They would figure it all out. If those detectives could hurry in finding Malcolm, they could start breathing again. Martin had quite the temper, who knew what he had in mind for him and her son now that he was alone with him, and probably angry that his time had been cut short. Somehow, even considering how dire the situation was, Jessica was optimistic. It would all be over soon.

\- - - - -

It had been close. A lot closer than Martin liked. A few more minutes and he would’ve gotten caught. He couldn’t get out of his mind the defeated look on Malcolm’s face as they saw all those police cars driving sirens blaring in the opposite direction. It was unfortunate too. They’d left Gil in quite the predicament, but if they conducted their search of the house quickly enough, there was still a chance they could save him. Martin had seen a lot of exsanguinations in his time, Gil was losing a lot of blood, but if his calculations were right, and they usually were, it wasn’t fast enough for him to die before he could be found.

Malcolm had screamed for a few minutes after they’d left. Then he’d tried to grab the steering wheel to maybe drive them off the road or something idiotic like that, but with the cast he couldn’t actually grab anything. Martin eventually had to knock him out. He didn’t want to, he hated hurting his son, but Malcolm didn’t leave him a choice. He kept trying to hit him or open the door, which would achieve nothing considering he was handcuffed to it and couldn’t jump off. Malcolm wouldn’t calm down, he wouldn’t listen to reason, there was no controlling him, so Martin resigned himself and punched him to sleep.

Martin parked the car in a crowded underground parking lot in Long Island. He wanted to wait out the night, get some rest, think of a strategy. Police were looking in the Hamptons anyway. He could think of a plan tomorrow, he knew they would’ve put up road blocks everywhere. He could make it back into the city, but he wouldn’t make it out. Besides, the convertible would blend in easier in more crowded roads. They would be hidden better among morning commuters than they would in the quickly emptying evening streets. He’d made it far enough that they were safe here. For a little while at least. He wouldn’t make it out of New York tonight.

A hit in the face woke him up. It was early in the morning and Malcolm was thrashing in his seat, thankfully restrained by the seat belt. He hadn’t meant to send his cast flying in his face, though he probably wouldn’t feel sorry about it. He was having one of those night terrors Martin had heard about. He had to wake up his son before he started screaming and alerted passersby.

“Malcolm. Malcolm, wake up, my boy. It’s just a bad dream, you’re perfectly fine.”

Malcolm woke with a startled gasp. He looked around, seemingly confused by his surroundings. He finally noticed his father and jumped back against the door, doing his best to put as much distance between them as possible. His eyes stayed fixed on Martin’s face, not even following his movements.

“Here,” Martin opened the glove compartment and retrieved Malcolm’s pills that he handed to him, “take your meds, you’ll feel better.”

Malcolm leaned down for his mouth to reach his hand, still cuffed to the door, and swallowed the pills. Martin smiled. He started the car and drove away from the parking lot.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any food, so breakfast will have to wait. I don’t think I can simply go to a McDonald’s drive-thru, can I? They might frown upon our little situation here.”

They were on the highway by the time Malcolm finally started talking again. His eyes caught on his previously white cast, now red with Gil’s blood. His face lost all remaining traces of colour in it and his expression went blank.

“I killed him. That was me. The knife was in my hand. He’s always been there for me and I just let him die. I killed him. I killed Gil.”

He didn’t even seem to be aware of his presence anymore. He just kept repeating those same words over and over again. Had he gone too far? Had he broken his son irreparably? Maybe he should’ve killed Gil himself. Making the boy hurt him was a great idea, but it seemed it went a little overboard. The man probably wasn’t even dead. If they could watch tv right now, they could probably see Ainsley announcing it was a close call and he was hopefully in critical condition, but he had good chances of pulling through. He wasn’t about to share that with his son though, it would be a lot easier for Malcolm to move on if he thought Gil was actually dead.

“You’re gonna be alright though, my boy? You’re in shock right now, but it’ll pass.”

“I killed Gil. I was holding the knife and then... So much blood. There was too much blood. He’s dead. Gil is dead. I killed him.”

His breathing was speeding up. The hand tremor had gotten so violent, it made the handcuff clatter against the door in an unnerving way. Martin could barely concentrate on the road anymore. He kept looking back at his son in clear distress, unable to do anything to help.

“Malcolm, calm down, you’ll give yourself another panic attack.”

“He knew he was going to die. That’s why he was so calm. He knew I killed him. He probably died hating me. I wanted to make him proud and all I did was disappoint him and mess up his life and then I killed him.”

“Come on, boy! Stop this. Take deep breaths.”

Martin put his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder and squeezed gently in the hopes to comfort him or bring him back in here somehow. It was clear from the blankness in his eyes that he was somewhere else, trapped in the horror of what had happened the previous night. He was awake, but still stuck in nightmares. Martin was at a lost to get him out of there. His son was in pain, a lot more pain than he intended to put him in. Or at least, he didn’t intend to break him so severely.

He wanted Malcolm to be in his life. He wanted a relationship with the boy, share their enjoyment of murder, maybe commit a few together. But his son was in no state to do anything right now. It sounded like he struggled to even breathe. They needed to stop somewhere, deal with this, but they were stuck in traffic now. Malcolm was having a panic attack and they were stuck in rush hour traffic. This day wasn’t going well.

“Malcolm, what can I do? What do you need?”

All these years, all these visits, and Malcolm never went into specifics about his diagnoses. He never talked about his issues with him, never mentioned any coping mechanism or medication. Most of what Martin knew about it came from Ainsley mentioning it when she interviewed him. He’d had no idea how bad it was before. And he felt unequipped to deal with it. He was a surgeon, his patients were unconscious for most of the time he spent with them. He had broken his son and wasn’t sure how to fix him.

Jessica and Ainsley could probably help. Even if they hated him, they would disregard that to help Malcolm. But he couldn’t call them. The only phone he had was Gil’s and if he used it, the police would trace it immediately and he would be caught. There was no escaping morning rush hour. He would be trapped, practically served on a silver platter for them to arrest. And it wasn’t part of his plan to ever go back to Claremont.

What was he thinking? He didn’t need anybody’s help. If Gil could take care of Malcolm, so could he. He was _his_ son after all. And he was smarter than any of them. He could figure it out. They were safe as long as they kept moving. No one would notice a car following the flow of vehicles, there were too many. But Malcolm wasn’t getting any better like this, his panic only seemed to grow. He kept hyperventilating, he was sweating and shaking violently. He needed help that Martin couldn’t provide as long as he was driving.

“Dammit, Malcolm!”

Martin had no choice. He needed to pull over to take care of his son. He probably had a few minutes before the police got wind of a convertible they would definitely be looking for by now stopped at the side of a very busy highway. Even with all the traffic cams and curious onlookers, it might be alright if he was quick enough.

There was some space in the shadows of trees right ahead and Martin pulled over there. They didn’t have a lot of time. As soon as people started noticing them, and noticing the convertible’s roof which was unusual in late January, they would become at risk of getting some company. Martin wanted to avoid that. He turned to Malcolm and put both of his hands on his shoulders, holding him steady.

“Malcolm, it’s alright, you’re safe, just breathe.” Martin himself took a long deep breath. “Look at me, my boy, breathe like I am. Nice and slow.”

“I killed Gil, I’m a murderer, no better than the Surgeon. I should be locked up, or killed, or... or...”

Martin thought he’d made progress when his son’s breathing had steadied enough for him to talk again, but he only managed to work himself back up into panic. It was clear he was in pain. This time, he seemed to be more aware of the fact he couldn’t breathe, but it only scared him more. He needed fresh air, something to distract him. Martin let go of his son and exited the car. He walked around it and opened the passenger side door. He crouched down next to Malcolm.

“My boy, can you feel the fresh air? Take it in slowly.”

He didn’t like seeing Malcolm like this. He let his head rest on his son’s arm, forced to be extended as it was still handcuffed to the door. He thought the pressure would draw his attention and make him focus on something else. He put his hands on his knees, squeezing gently in what he thought was a comforting gesture.

“Look at me, Malcolm. It’s dad, I’m right here, everything’s gonna be alright. Deep breaths, you’ll be just fine.”

Malcolm was still staring off into space. His eyes finally seemed to focus on something ahead, far off in the distance, they widened, his breathing hitched and he turned his head toward his father. Martin smiled. His son was looking at him and, while he looked just as alarmed as before, his panic seemed to be subsiding.

\- - - - -

“Gil, you’re the father my son deserves. I’d much rather have you in my life than that monster.”

Gil looked down at his hand in hers and smiled. After two days of Martin making it abundantly clear how he felt about his bond with his son, it was a relief to hear Jessica validate the relationship he had with Malcolm. He loved him like his own son and he always wondered how Jessica felt about that. He knew she felt a little uncomfortable with the whole thing when Jackie was still alive. She must’ve felt a little jealous and scared that his wife would be a better mother to her children than she was. But Jackie would never replace her.

“You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He smiled. He felt safe and happy here with her. Part of him wanted to go back to the city and help the team, but part of him also wanted to just enjoy this time to rest and be glad he survived. He was alive. For a while, he’d thought he wouldn’t make it. Now, he was on the mend. The team would’ve made sure Martin couldn’t get out of New York so his city boy wasn’t going anywhere. It didn’t mean he wasn’t worried though.

When they were last together, Gil could already see that Malcolm was barely holding it together. He was fighting for him, not himself, and Gil worried that would be gone now that all of his attempts to save him had failed. He likely wasn’t in any state to escape. He would have to be rescued, sooner rather than later. Martin had already done plenty of damage to his son’s mental state, Gil would rather not think how much worse it could get.

“Well, it’s true. I have no idea what I would’ve done all these years without you, and Jackie. I couldn’t be happier that you’ve been in our lives. I hope you didn’t let Martin convince you otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t let Martin talk for you, I know better than that.”

He put his left hand over hers to show how much he cared about her. He wanted to express just how much it meant to him that she thought of him as an important part of her family. Her eyes fell on it, a hint of sadness showing in them at the sight of the splint.

“What happened to your wedding ring?” Jessica asked suddenly.

Gil gave a quick look to his broken finger.

“Martin took it off and threw it away. Must still be in that room. He heard us when we were in Malcolm’s apartment and he thought I was replacing him. He got mad.”

His voice broke at the memory. He hadn’t exactly been ready to let go of his ring, he was getting close, but he wasn’t quite there yet. He remembered how helpless he’d felt in those first moments at Martin’s mercy, with Malcolm forced to watch him get hurt. He remembered how uncomfortable he’d felt having this conversation with Martin in front of Jessica’s son. Nothing was going on between them, but it wasn’t the way he wanted Malcolm to learn it might someday. At least he hoped.

“I’m sorry, Gil. I wish you didn’t have to get dragged into our family drama.”

“And I wish none of us did.”

His hands were still around hers and he could feel them trembling. Her entire body seemed to be shaking slightly. It was small, and barely noticeable, but it was there. She had been here with him since the previous night, it had been hours. Many times in the past, he’d worried she might have a drinking problem, but it didn’t seem to cause any real issues and they were all keeping an eye on her. Ainsley mostly was the one to take care of her mother and make sure it never got too bad or out of control. But she hadn’t had a drink in over twelve hours now and she was showing signs of withdrawal.

“Jessica, are you feeling okay?”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” She pulled her hands away and set them back on her lap. “We should call your team. You must be as curious as I am to find out what kind of progress they made looking for Malcolm.”

“I’m sure they’d call us if anything happened, but can’t hurt to ask how it’s going.”

Gil instinctively tried looking for his phone before he remembered Martin still had it. He still had all of his things. He’d often imagined using his handcuffs to keep Malcolm from going off on his own, but never once thought someone else would use them to trap him. He’d even occasionally made jokes about handcuffing him to himself so he could be certain he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Malcolm had rolled his eyes so hard at it, while Dani and JT couldn’t stop laughing. He missed those moments. He was eager to get back to work and hang out with all of them. He knew it would take some time before he was cleared for duty, but as long as he got Malcolm back, he didn’t mind.

Maybe they could recover together. They could sit in either of their living room and watch movies. They could talk about what happened as they processed it, and as Malcolm worked on it with Gabrielle. They could keep each other company, maybe even go on vacation, during what would be sure to be a long leave from work for both of them. But first, they had to get Malcolm back.

“Here, use my phone. They’ll be happy to hear your voice.”

Gil took the phone and dialed JT. No answer. It seemed strange to him, because he should’ve been at work by now. Then again, maybe he was too busy. He tried Dani. No answer again. Now, that was unusual. Neither of them answering their phone? It never happened. What if someone tried to reach them to follow up on a lead? They always kept their phone close and answered them. Something was wrong.

He called Edrisa. She was their best chance at reaching someone who might be aware what was happening, but wouldn’t necessarily be involved. He had to text Ainsley to ask for the number, because he didn’t know it by heart and Jessica didn’t have it, but the trouble was worth it because she answered. He put her on speaker so Jessica could hear the information directly from her.

“Edrisa, it’s Gil.”

“Gil! I’m so happy to hear from you. You know I was just thinking about driving up to visit. I feel bad thinking you’re all alone over there.”

“I’m not alone. Jessica’s here. Listen, Edrisa, I tried calling Dani and JT, but they’re not answering.”

“That’s weird. Or then again maybe not. They left an hour ago, they got a hit off a security camera near an underground parking lot in Long Island. Maybe they found Martin Whitly. He won’t go down easy. They might be having a situation that prevents them from answering the phone. Put a knife to Bright’s throat and you’ve got yourself a very handsome hostage.”

That scenario had been in the back of his mind ever since they left the cabin. He’d tried his best not to think about it all morning. It would be too easy to spiral down all the worst cases. He wanted to stay optimistic. He needed to, otherwise he was afraid he might break. It was clear from Jessica’s reaction though that she wasn’t expecting that. Or maybe she’d run all the scenarios through her head too, but was taken by surprise to hear one of them being presented as a real possibility.

“What?”

“Edrisa, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Mrs Whitly. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. We’re all very worried about your son. But I’m sure Dani and JT can handle it no matter the situation. It’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Edrisa. Please, if you hear anything, call us.”

“Of course. Get well soon, Gil.”

Tense silence filled the room after he hung up. Edrisa’s words weighed on them both. It was the best explanation for why neither Dani nor JT were picking up. If they had caught up with Martin, they could easily be in the middle of a standoff. Gil couldn’t get the image of Malcolm holding a knife to his own throat the previous night. Would he even care if Martin did that to him now? Or would he somehow use that against his father? If Malcolm threatening his own life had somehow stopped Martin in his tracks, how could anyone believe he would actually go through with killing him? He couldn’t do it when he was ten and putting his secret at risk, he’d had a panic attack when Gil told him his son had been taken by John Watkins thinking he might be dead, everything pointed to any threat Martin could make on Malcolm’s life being empty.

“Come here.”

Gil moved to the side a little to make space next to him and extended his arm. Jessica seemed to hesitate, but she came to sit next to him. He wrapped his arm around her and she leaned into him, her head falling on his shoulder.

“I just want my son back. I want him safe at home.”

“I know. I want him back too.”

Gil let his head rest on hers and closed his eyes. He understood what it was like now, to be the one waiting safely while a loved one was out there in a risky situation. All these years he had been in the middle of the action, doing everything he could to resolve things in the best way possible. The lack of influence he had on the outcome was driving him crazy. He knew Jessica felt the same way. She probably did every time Malcolm went out in the field, every time she learned he got himself in trouble. There was nothing they could do now.

They held on to each other like it was the most natural thing, like they had no one else. Which was the case for the moment. They were stranded all the way out here in this hospital outside the city while everyone else was working. Either trying to resolve their situation or at least just having something to occupy their minds until it was. Gil and Jessica didn’t have that. They only had each other and their thoughts. They had to sit and wait and hope.

\- - - - -

It was too much. Everything was too much. All these feelings meddled into his mind and he couldn’t make sense of anything. He tried to concentrate on one thing at a time, let the rational part of his brain take over, but he was unable to order his thoughts. He felt himself growing tired. He could barely get any air in and his heart was pounding in his chest. It was draining him of energy. His father’s voice sounded distant, like he wasn’t right there next to him, his hands squeezing his knees. He couldn’t focus. Until he saw them.

Movement caught his eye somewhere farther down the road. Suddenly, he started being aware of his surroundings again. He was still in the car, by the side of the highway, his arm was stretched away from him, hanging loosely from the handcuff keeping him tied to the passenger door. He focused long enough to recognise them. JT and Dani were approaching slowly. He finally managed to calm himself, though he still had trouble keeping his breathing under control.

Malcolm turned to his father, wondering if he’d noticed them and how he would react when he did. He was smiling. Things were about to go south and his father was smiling. Malcolm didn’t know how to feel. As much as he never wanted to see Martin again, he also couldn’t bear the idea of losing another father in such a short amount of time. He was scared. He didn’t know if he should warn his father or do anything to try and make this go easier. No matter what happened next, all he knew was that he didn’t want to witness Martin getting shot. He couldn’t handle it.

“Martin Whitly, you’re surrounded. Step away from the vehicle with your hands in the air!”

Anger filled his father’s face at the sound of JT’s voice. He wasn’t going to let them win this easily. He opened the glove compartment and for the first time Malcolm took in its contents. There was a gun in there. How had he not seen that before? Not that it would’ve changed anything, his cast prevented him from grabbing it himself anyway, Martin made sure of that. He might’ve been too busy having a panic attack to notice it.

Martin wrapped his arm around Malcolm’s chest, he took the gun and put it against his son’s head. Malcolm didn’t try to resist as his father pulled him up, holding him against himself in a firm grip as he walked in the police’s line of sight. There would’ve been no point and he was completely worn out from earlier. He didn’t have the energy to fight anymore, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.

“Don’t come any closer or I shoot him.”

It wasn’t smart, it wasn’t elegant, it wasn’t The Surgeon. It was an act from a desperate man who had lost all control and wanted to avoid going back to Claremont at all costs. Martin had no other cards left to play, no other back up plans. Malcolm’s injury had caused events to move forward too fast. It was the one thing Martin couldn’t have predicted.

“Where’d you get a gun, Dr Whitly?”

Malcolm kept looking down. He didn’t even look up when Dani spoke. He couldn’t look her or JT in the eyes. They likely didn’t know he had been the one to stab Gil, but when they learned he was responsible for his death, they would hate him for it. Malcolm didn’t want to see them look at him with pity or reassurance when they were minutes away from finding out he was a monster just like his father.

“My good friend Gil Arroyo was nice enough to bring one on our little trip.”

It was stronger than him. Malcolm completely fell apart at the mention of Gil. Gil who had been nothing but a good man, a great father figure to him and the rest of the team. Gil who’d spent his life fighting for justice, doing the right thing and going after criminals. Now he was gone forever. He hadn’t deserved this. He hadn’t deserved any of the pain being in Malcolm’s life had inflicted upon him. Malcolm sobbed uncontrollably. He’d killed Gil. He could never forgive himself for that, no one could. Least of all Dani and JT standing only a few feet away.

“How is he by the way? He didn’t look too good after my son put that knife in him.”

Malcolm was so overwhelmed with grief, he couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t think of what to say or do. He wasn’t putting any effort to hold himself up, he’d fall to the ground if Martin decided to let go of him. He could still feel the barrel of the gun against his temple, but he didn’t care. Part of him wished his father would pull the trigger. In the meantime, tears kept pouring down his face filled as much with shame as they were with sadness and pain.


	8. Chapter 8

They’d found him. He was kneeling behind the open passenger door of the convertible and they could only see his curly grey hair, but there he was, stopped on the side of the highway, only a few feet away from them. To her left, JT’s phone was buzzing, but he wasn’t paying any attention to it. His eyes had locked on the same thing hers did.

Malcolm was sitting in the front seat of the car. He seemed completely panicked. She wasn’t even sure he was getting any air he was breathing so fast. But he caught sight of them and seemed to relax a little. Not as much as she would’ve hoped, but at least he wasn’t panicking anymore. She wondered what had put him in that kind of a state. What did Martin do to him that was so horrible Malcolm didn’t even try to fight him off when he pulled him out with a gun against his head?

“How is he by the way? He didn’t look too good after my son put that knife in him.”

Dani was completely taken by surprise at those words. She could barely feel her own phone buzzing in her pocket. JT was frozen in place. For all the comments he’d made about Malcolm’s obsession with murder, he seemed just as shocked as she was to hear about this. But there had to be more to this story. Either Martin was lying or he’d forced his son to do it somehow, because there was no way he’d ever hurt Gil.

Even from that distance, Dani could hear Malcolm crying. It sounded almost like he choked on his own sobs. It was loud, it wouldn’t stop and it was heartbreaking to watch. He was shaking enough that Martin seemed to struggle to keep him standing upright. And he wouldn’t look at them, like he was too ashamed of what happened to face them.

“Whitly, you have no choice but to surrender, we know you’d never kill your son. Especially if it looks like you’re making progress turning him into a killer.”

Martin turned to face Colette who was coming from the other side. Dani could see the handcuff pulling on Malcolm’s wrist. It had to be painful but he had no reaction to it. He did look up at Colette though. She had until very recently been convinced he would become a serial killer just like his father, she couldn’t think less of him for stabbing Gil.

“You want me to let go of him so you can take him away from me for good? He is _my_ boy, not anyone else’s. If I can’t have him, neither should you.”

“No one else will have me. Who else would I belong to? Gil is dead. And no one will ever want me after what I did. I’m the monster everyone thought I’d be, you might as well shoot me now.”

Malcolm’s voice was hoarse and apathetic. There was no hope or fight in it. Only pain and despair. He didn’t want to keep going anymore, he wanted it all to be over. His words weren’t part of a strategy to outsmart Martin or distract him, he actually meant them. It was unbearable to hear.

“Hey, Bright, look at me. I don’t think you’re a monster. We know you didn’t want to do this.”

Dani made a few tentative steps forward, but stopped when Martin saw her and tightened his grip on his son. Malcolm looked down, tears dropping from his chin to the ground.

“I am. Everything that happened was my fault. Gil died because of me. Everyone who gets close to me gets hurt.”

“Bright, Gil is fine. Your mom’s with him. She called me last night, he’s awake.”

“You’re lying, he... he was losing too much blood.”

Malcolm was staring at his cast. Dani only then noticed it was brownish red, he’d probably tried to help Gil and gotten blood all over it. He seemed completely out of it. His right hand was shaking violently and it pulled against the handcuff. Nothing they said would convince him. But his agitated state seemed to be pulling focus from Martin and it gave Dani an idea. She told JT and they both hoped Colette would figure it out. They had no way to communicate with her without arising Martin’s suspicion. She was a smart profiler, they were confident she would catch on pretty quickly.

“Dr Whitly, you’re a surgeon, you must know there was enough time for us to find him before he died. Tell him.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t make such assumptions. You never know how a patient’s body will handle that kind of stress.”

“Dr Whitly, your son is in distress. If you care at all about him, help me.”

“Malcolm will be just fine. Right, my boy?”

“Sh... shoot m... me.”

Malcolm’s breathing was so strained, he could barely get the words out. JT took a step forward and pointed his gun more firmly at Martin.

“Hurt him and you’re dead.” He was almost daring him to do it. “Come on, I’d love a reason to shoot you. I’m sure your family would thank me for it.”

“My family needs me! People like you deprived my daughter of growing up with a father. You think of yourselves as heroes, but you ruin everything.”

Martin was angry. His attention was entirely on them. As he got mad and started yelling, he slightly loosened his grip on his son which gave Colette the opportunity she’d been looking for. While the others talked and distracted Martin, she had been approaching him from the other side. Dani had been right, she figured out her plan. When Martin started losing his temper, Colette tackled him. He screamed and fought back as she and another agent pinned him to the ground and handcuffed him.

In the chaos, Malcolm was pulled down until his father was forced to let go of him. Dani and JT ran to him. They found him lying on the ground, his right hand held up by the handcuff. He was taking deep breaths and his eyes were closed. It was hard to tell whether he was only trying to calm himself down or if he was in pain. He flinched when Dani touched his wrist to free it from the door. It looked hurt.

“I think his wrist may be sprained.”

“That’s unlucky. Now he doesn’t have any good hand.”

“He can hear you, JT!”

“Sorry.”

“Guys, are things alright with Bright? Do you need any help, my guys have Whitly handled.”

“No, Colette, you’ve done enough. Bright never would’ve been in this mess if you hadn’t left him alone.” Dani thought JT was being a little harsh, but he wasn’t wrong. “Go back to the precinct, handle things with Whitly. We’ll take care of Bright.”

Colette seemed like she wanted to say something, but she nodded and went back to Martin. She pulled him up and half the FBI guys left with them, the others staying to process the car. After she took the shackles off of him, Dani made Malcolm sit up. She had to hold him as he seemed unwilling to make any effort to keep himself up, if he was even aware what was going on. She could feel him shaking against her.

“Bright. Hey, Bright. Open your eyes, look at me, you’re safe now.”

Malcolm took another deep breath and opened his eyes. He looked at them both around him, still not meeting their eyes. Dani worried. He had been through so much already, and he had a hard time coping with everything. She wasn’t even sure he wanted to live. His breathing was still uneven, like he had trouble keeping himself calm.

“We’ll have to keep you on a leash from now on, bro, make sure people have to get through us to take you.”

“Seriously, JT?”

“What? It’s what he does. When things are tense or bad, he makes jokes. He usually goes for sarcasm, but I couldn’t think of anything.”

Malcolm’s gaze found JT’s face and he gave him a small smile. It was tiny and weak, but it was there. For the first time, Dani felt relief. They got him back. They rescued him from his serial killer father. It was all going to be okay. Not right away, but eventually.

“I was worried, man. We were all worried, even Tally. You have to stop getting kidnapped.”

“Yeah, Bright, you gotta use some of the self-defense stuff I know you’ve learned. And maybe that survival instinct you seem to be lacking.”

He went back to staring down. The second he caught sight of his bloody cast, his breathing sped up again.

“Alright, let’s get you to the hospital. I know you don’t like to go there, but you need to get checked out. That wrist doesn’t look good.”

“Gil, I... I killed him, I... He’s...”

“Gil is fine.” JT said. “He’s alive. We found him in time. You didn’t kill anyone.”

It was no use. Malcolm kept repeating those words and getting himself worked up.

“You know what? You don’t have anything that requires immediate medical attention, so I think we can spare some time. Let’s get you to that hospital in the Hamptons, where Gil is. You can see for yourself.”

JT pulled him up and they sat him in the back of the SUV. They turned on the sirens so they could get there faster. JT drove while Dani sat with Malcolm, doing her best to keep him from panicking. She put her hand under his chin and forced him to look up at her. If the cast was what was triggering him, maybe she could stop him from setting eyes on it for a while. Malcolm seemed detached, but she was sure he would feel better as soon as he saw Gil alive. At least she hoped he would.

\- - - - -

“Good evening, I am Ainsley Whitly. The serial killer known as The Surgeon is back in custody. After a two-week manhunt, the police finally caught up with Martin Whitly this morning. Claremont Psychiatric Hospital assures us that extra measures have been put in place to prevent further escapes. It has to be mentioned that it was the first time a situation like this ever happened at the facility. All privileges allowing The Surgeon contact with the outside world have been taken from him, including visitations and medical consultations.

Malcolm Bright was retrieved with no critical injury to be reunited with his family. Lieutenant Gil Arroyo is recovering nicely. They will not answer any questions and ask that you respect their choices and let them enjoy some time alone with their loved ones as they process the emotionally draining events of the past few days.”

\- - - - -

It had been five days since she’d last seen her brother. Five days since she’d had to tell him Gil had been kidnapped and watched his face fall. It had been four days since she’d last heard his voice, weak and strained. It had been three days since she’d received a phone call from Dani telling her he’d been rescued and brought to the hospital. Three days since her father had been locked back into Claremont, deprived of visitations, phone calls and television for good this time. Three days since she’d had to tell her audience that her brother had been reunited with them. It had been two days since she’d told her boss she was taking a leave of absence to spend time with her family. And it had been one day since she’d gone back to her brother’s loft to make sure it was ready to welcome him back. She even had a bed brought in so Gil could stay there too. She knew he wouldn’t want to stay away from him too long and his leg made coming back and forth pretty inconvenient because of the stairs.

She missed her big brother. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to see him before they brought him up to psych for a 72-hour hold. She hadn’t made it to the hospital in time. Her mother had seen him briefly while they were getting him set in his third cast for the same thumb break. They also bandaged and put a splint on his right wrist, which was severely bruised and definitely sprained. According to Jessica, Malcolm hadn’t said a word the whole time. He’d just sat there, staring down, letting them do whatever they needed to do.

When Dani had started yelling at the doctors to just let him stop by Gil’s room on the way up, so he’d understand he was alive, Malcolm hadn’t looked up. Even Jessica threatening to withdraw her very generous donation to the hospital didn’t change their minds. They refused to bring a mentally unstable patient to visit an injured loved one. They didn’t know how he could react and feared it could trigger some kind of a breakdown. JT, Dani and Jessica had tried and tried to convince them that he thought Gil dead and seeing that he wasn’t could only help, but they didn’t see it that way. Malcolm was acting apathetic and, from what they’d related of that morning’s events, he could be a danger to himself.

Three days had passed. Jessica hadn’t left the hospital. Ainsley had brought her a few changes of clothes. She’d spent most of her days there as well, but she went home at night. Dani and JT usually came by in the evening to see how Gil was doing and ask if there was any news about Malcolm. Gil kept telling everyone they didn’t have to stay or make the drive, he was just fine and would call them as soon as he learned anything, but they insisted. They couldn’t just leave him alone out here.

Her brother hadn’t been allowed any visitors except for Gabrielle. She had assured them they didn’t have to worry about him hurting himself or anyone else, and not just because both of his hands were injured. He wasn’t talking and seemed reluctant to be around her, but nothing else about his behaviour suggested he might actively want to die. He mostly cooperated with the doctors, took his medications without problems and assisted to every type of therapy session. Gabrielle told them she’d gotten a lot from his art, which Ainsley and everyone else wished they could see. He was being a pretty good patient in general, but he wasn’t eating. At first, they’d thought it was because of the pain in his wrist, but he refused to let anyone help him.

“When we were... over there, Malcolm would only eat if Martin gave me a bite first. Otherwise, his father had to feed him by force.” Gil explained when Gabrielle admitted being unsure what was going on.

“If he still believes you dead, he might feel guilty that he gets to eat when you couldn’t.” Gabrielle said. “It could also be because he’s not a big eater and it doesn’t seem worth the effort with the pain. Having someone else feed him would remind him of the terrible time he had with Martin.”

“If he still won’t eat, will they keep him up there longer?”

Jessica asked the question that was in everyone’s mind. They missed him, they didn’t want him to stay here alone any longer. Especially since Gil was being released and there would be no place for them to be at the hospital anymore.

“No, he’s still leaving today, unless he doesn’t want to. I should go up there now, so he knows where you all are. I’ll be back soon.”

Gabrielle left and they all shared a smile. They would all be in the city by lunch. Time seemed to stop, minutes felt excruciatingly long as they waited. Jessica rose from her chair every time she heard a noise outside, hoping Gabrielle was back with her son. Ainsley sat at the end of the bed and she kept throwing glances at Gil, smiling. He smiled back at her, comfortably propped up against pillows. He had been eager to leave this place, but even more to be able to see Malcolm again.

His head hung low and his eyes fixed on the ground when he came in. Malcolm seemed reluctant to be there. He saw Ainsley and stopped walking. Gabrielle had to insist for him to go on, she pushed gently on his back to prompt him to go farther into the room. There was no expression on his face, like he was numb of all emotion. Maybe he was. Sometimes you felt so much, you stopped feeling anything at all. And Malcolm must’ve been feeling a variety of intense and confusing emotions.

“Hey, kid.”

Malcolm raised his head when he heard Gil’s voice. His eyes widened in surprise. For a second, he looked confused, they saw him shake his head and make a tight fist that would have his nails dig into his palm, like he was trying to make sure it was all real and not some kind of dream or hallucination. When he was convinced, he moved faster than they’d ever expected from his previous demeanor. He sat on the side of the bed and wrapped his arms around Gil, who hugged him back.

“It’s okay, I’m alright. Getting a little wet, but I’m perfectly fine. I’ll be back to work in no time.”

Tears poured down Malcolm’s cheeks. He looked up long enough to see the bandaged head wound and burns on Gil’s face and buried his face back into his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.

“It wasn’t your fault, kid. Nothing that happened was your fault. Martin did that, and you can’t blame yourself for it. Do you understand?”

Malcolm didn’t reply. Once he finally let go of Gil and stopped crying, Ainsley and Jessica hugged him, happy to have him back. He let them, but he didn’t return it. His expression had become blank. He didn’t say a word the whole ride back to the city. When Jessica asked Adolfo’s help getting Gil up to the loft with the wheelchair, Malcolm stared sadly down at his hands. Gil couldn’t use crutches because any effort could cause his stitches to open again. It was quite the struggle getting him up the stairs to Malcolm’s apartment, but once there everything was accessible to him in the chair, Ainsley had made sure of that. Her brother went up without paying them any attention. Like they weren’t there at all.

It became evident in the following days that Malcolm still blamed himself for what happened to Gil. He never looked at him directly. Or any of them really. He didn’t say or do anything against Gil staying with him, but they could all see his hand tremor whenever his eyes caught sight of him.

Malcolm wasn’t any friendlier with Jessica and Ainsley. He wouldn’t let them in. They had to use their own keys to get in, because Gil couldn’t reach the button to buzz them in without risking pulling on his stitches. Once they were inside, Malcolm completely ignored them. He would walk to the other end of the loft, never letting anyone get close to him. When they asked Gabrielle about it, she suggested he might be trying to protect them. Martin had spent two days torturing Gil for his relationship with Malcolm, who had to watch. With everything she knew about him and how he thought, she believed he might be under the impression people around him would be at risk of getting hurt. He might very well be afraid of letting anyone in, that it was too dangerous.

Ainsley didn’t give up though. She was still there every day. And so was Jessica. They helped Gil with everything he needed. He felt a little uncomfortable with it, not used to having other people do things for him, but he expressed his gratitude constantly. Ainsley hoped it would set an example for her brother. After all, Gil was his mentor, he’d always looked up to him.

Every day she tried to help Malcolm too. She brought him a plate of food wherever he was, knowing he wouldn’t make the effort to prepare anything for himself. Plus, cooking with a broken thumb and a sprained wrist on opposite hands might prove difficult. She watched from the corner of her eye as they ate and he did too. He always waited until they were all sitting at the counter and halfway through their own plates, but then he picked up the fork and ate. He never finished his plate, but at least it was something. When he brought it back to the counter to empty the leftovers, pain from the effort clear on his face, Ainsley always smiled warmly at him. She offered him his bottle of painkillers, but he never took them. Maybe he felt he was on enough medication already, maybe he was just ignoring her.

It reminded her of when they were kids. When he wouldn’t talk and she couldn’t understand why. How she used to try so hard to convince him to play with her and he wouldn’t. All she ever wanted was for her big brother to be happy, like she was. She didn’t understand then, but she did now. As a little girl, she was afraid her brother had stopped loving her, but as an adult, she knew it wasn’t the case. He just had a hard time. He did love her, but he was afraid his love for her could get her hurt. He was probably feeling a million things that he needed to process and make order of. He probably wouldn’t even know where to start if he did talk.

It took time, but it seemed like they were slowly getting through to him. The more they insisted on being there and not leaving Malcolm alone, the less stubborn he became. They made it clear they were not afraid he’d get them hurt, and said so regularly. Gil actually told him it was all worth it to have him in his life. Surely his therapy sessions with Gabrielle also helped despite him staying mute. After two weeks, he wasn’t making any effort to get away from them anymore. He still mostly ignored them, but he let them be around him and even sat with them at meals.

Edrisa visited every once in a while. Malcolm let her sit near him and listened while she talked about a variety of subjects. Most often, she’d tell them about cases they were working. Gil and Malcolm were both very interested. She complained at great lengths about some of Ainsley’s coworkers, saying how much she missed her. Jessica looked appalled that both of her children were spending enough time in the morgue to have become good friends with the medical examiner. But Malcolm was starting to brighten up as members of the team kept showing up. Never forgetting about him or taking the opportunity to be rid of him.

JT came by on the regular, often accompanied by Tally. They usually brought food. JT’s wife secretly told them it was his idea, despite his insistence that it was all her. One night, they brought kringles, which apparently everyone who worked at the precinct had heard about. Ainsley thought they were delicious, but the best part was the smile Malcolm gave Tally when he took a bite of it.

“I knew my wife’s kringles were magical. Look at you, man, all smiles!”

Her brother ducked his head down, like he always did when he was happy, as if he were trying to hide it for some reason. She’d noticed it several times before and it would make her just a little sad that he seemed almost ashamed of feeling good. But not today. Today all she cared about was the fact that he smiled at all.

Dani stopped by every day after work. She would make tea and bring a cup to Malcolm before going back to the others. Ainsley got along well with her, and she liked how good of a friend she was to her brother. She came, she did this small gesture for him, but nothing more. She gave him the space he needed and let him decide if that was enough. More and more often, he’d come and sit closer to them so he could listen to their conversation.

Soon it almost felt like a long holiday. They spent all day together, not worrying about anything that was going on in the outside world except when they had guests. Gil had his own bed there and Ainsley had taken to sleeping on the couch. Malcolm would usually get up early in the morning and make coffee for everyone.

One morning three weeks after getting out of the hospital though, Ainsley woke up to find him, still wearing the sweat pants and t-shirt he slept with, sitting on the floor next to her, watching her sleep. She could see Gil still sound asleep at the other end of the loft. It reminded her of that weekend before their first Thanksgiving without Martin, the first one they’d spent at the Arroyos.

There was only one guest room so they’d had to share. Ainsley remembered how happy she had been to get to have a sleepover with her big brother, and how sad she’d been when he hadn’t shared her excitement. His screams woke her up like usual, except this time, she could feel him thrashing next to her. She remembered how scared she’d been, but when she’d called out his name and shaken his shoulder, he’d calmed, looked at her and wrapped her in his arms.

By the time Gil had made it to the room, alarmed by Malcolm’s screams, they were hugging each other, already on the brink of sleep again. When she’d opened her eyes the next morning, she could see Gil had fallen asleep in the chair by the window. Her brother was already up, sitting next to her, watching her sleep. When he’d noticed she was awake, he’d looked down at his hands. She’d reached out, grabbing them with hers.

“Mom says you’re hurt. Do you want me to kiss it better? Like you do when I get a scrape?”

Malcolm had smiled and looked directly into her eyes.

“Thanks, but I’m the big brother, I should take care of you.”

“I can do it too, Mal. I’m not a little kid anymore, I go to school now.”

He’d laughed at that. Not in a mean way, in a ‘my little sister is adorable’ way.

“You don’t have to. Everything’s gonna be okay, Ains. You’ll see.”

She’d never told anyone about that little conversation. Gil and Jessica still thought it had taken a few more weeks for Malcolm to start talking again, they never knew he’d said anything that day. She’d almost forgotten all about it herself. Seeing him sitting there next to the couch she’d been crashing on brought it all back to her like it was yesterday. She smiled. It seemed to be exactly what Malcolm needed her to do. He had looked hesitant before, like he was ready to get up and leave any minute, but he relaxed when he saw her smile.

His mouth opened, like he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind and closed it. He’d looked like that a lot the past few days. He kept throwing worried glances at her and something was clearly on his mind. He wanted to talk, he just couldn’t get himself to do it yet.

“You don’t have to say anything. I get it, Mal. You’ve been through a lot. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He gave her a grateful smile and she let her hand rest on his shoulder. She wanted him to know she was there for him, whatever kind of help he needed. Sunshine flew in and landed on her arm, extended in the space between her and her brother. She hadn’t even noticed the cage was open. Malcolm’s eyes immediately went to his bird, like she was his biggest source of comfort.

“Ains?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? You’re the one who got kidnapped.”

“Ains.”

He’d only said one word, but she could tell it meant more. He meant, ‘come on, cut the bullshit, I know you’ve been through something too’, she’d known him long enough to understand what the tone he used when saying her name meant. She also knew he wouldn’t let her avoid the subject.

“It doesn’t matter how I am. You and Gil got kidnapped. Our serial killer father tortured you both. Oh, don’t give me that look, Mal, just because he didn’t physically hurt you doesn’t mean it wasn’t torture. Gil has months of recovery ahead of him. And you... I can hear you screaming at night. I notice how little you sleep, you know. And I know the nightmares are worse than ever. So how could it possibly matter how bad I feel? It’s nothing.”

“Ains.”

He looked up at her. He sounded sad this time. And now she felt bad because she upset him. She couldn’t do anything right. This whole time, ever since Martin escaped, all she’d done is make things worse.

“It was my fault Gil got taken. He used me to lure him out. And then I’m sure he got mad at you and hurt him more when I called and you tried to give me a clue. That I couldn’t solve, by the way. I’ve been useless. I couldn’t help either of you. All I did is help Martin.”

“It wasn’t your fault. He manipulated you, that’s what he does. You can’t feel bad about that.”

“But I do feel bad about it. He thanked me, Mal. He thanked me for helping him with his plan. I felt dirty. Like a pawn in his little game. And then you went after him to get Gil back and got taken too. None of this would’ve happened without me.”

“Yes, it would’ve. The Surgeon always has a backup plan. He would’ve found another way.”

Malcolm joined her on the couch and hugged her. Sunshine let out an offended chirp. No one was paying attention to her, so she flew away to try her luck with Gil.

“You know, sometimes I wish he wasn’t back at Claremont, that one of those detectives had shot him and we’d never have to worry about him again.”

“Sometimes I do too. We can always pretend.”

Ainsley smiled and pulled him tight against her. She could tell he still wasn’t okay and neither was she, but they had each other’s back and they’d get through this together, and with the help of their respective therapists.

“Who let this damn bird out? I was in the middle of a very good dream. Do either of you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a good night sleep?”

“Sorry, Gil.” Malcolm and Ainsley called out at once.

As she turned to look at him, Ainsley could see Gil soften. All his fake ‘my children are the worst’ anger was gone, his eyes gleamed with joy and he hurried to get himself up. He almost tripped over his crutches. He wasn’t used to them yet, he’d just gotten the permission to stop using the wheelchair, and he was trying to go too fast.

“Kid, you’re talking.”

Malcolm ducked his head like he was embarrassed. Ainsley had a feeling he’d been afraid of that. That the longer he spent without talking, the more attention he was going to get from everyone when he did. He’d told her when they were kids that he hated it, that he never should’ve talked to adults and only kept talking to her. Because she always treated him the same and everyone else coddled him and made a fuss out of the shortest sentence coming out of his mouth. She had to get the attention off of him, before he closed himself off again.

“How about breakfast? Who else feels like waffles?”

By the time Jessica arrived, with coffee and pastries, Sunshine was back in her cage and they were all sitting at the counter. Gil’s plate was already empty and he was nibbling on what Malcolm had left in his while Ainsley finished her own.

“The paparazzi won’t leave the house. Thankfully, there are none here.” Jessica finished putting her coat away and finally saw them. “Are you all still not dressed? It’s almost 10!”

“We should spend the whole day like this, it’d be fun! I have an extra set of pyjamas for you, mom.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please! It’s one day. And it’s just us. Like Christmas break when we were little kids. Before, you know...”

“Come on, Jessica, it could be fun. We all need a little fun after what we’ve been through.”

Ainsley could tell her mother was hesitating. She wanted to make her daughter happy, and Gil was making a good argument, but she wasn’t the kind of person to change into pyjamas outside her own home. Ainsley didn’t know if her mother even owned pyjamas, she’d always seen her in night gowns. In the end, it was Malcolm who convinced her.

“I’ll get the board games from upstairs while you change.”

He didn’t leave her time to react to the fact he was speaking. He got up and headed up, Gil prompting Ainsley to follow her brother with a sigh. There was no way Malcolm could get to and carry game boxes by himself. His left hand was still in a cast, and his right wrist wasn’t completely healed yet either. Both still caused him plenty of pain, and it didn’t help that he kept trying to use them. Gil would’ve helped himself, but he couldn’t carry anything down the stairs with crutches.

When they got back down with the games, the kitchen had been cleaned up and space had been made in the living room, with pillows and cushions on the carpet. Gil sat with his back against the couch, his broken leg extended by the side of the table toward Jessica who was surprisingly sitting on the floor across from him. Ainsley put down the boxes on the couch and took place next to Gil, while her brother sat by their mother.

Malcolm convinced them to play Skip-Bo using puppy dog eyes Gil deemed illegal. They thought they would have a chance, in every card game a bit of luck is involved, and her brother wasn’t exactly favoured by it. However, even being dealt a terrible stock pile, Malcolm destroyed them. It was humiliating even. That was when Jessica remembered he used to play that game with Gabrielle almost every week growing up. He smiled broader than they’d seen him in a long time when they realised he’d tricked them. Ainsley reached across the table to punch his shoulder.

“You’re not allowed to pick games anymore, cheater.”

“I didn’t cheat, I’m just better at it than all of you.”

“You had an unfair advantage. How about Clue next?”

“Oh, honey, you’ve all had such a nice break from murder, why bring it into games day?”

Ainsley shared a knowing look with Malcolm, they’d both expected their mother to say something like that. Gil grabbed the game from behind him and started setting it up before Jessica could protest. They ended up playing it for hours. So long lunch came around and they ordered pizza in between two games. The competition was more balanced. Malcolm won a few, but Ainsley and Jessica also got their fair share of victories. Gil, on the other end, kept losing well into the afternoon.

“How are you so bad at this game?” Ainsley finally said. “Solving murders is literally your job.”

“The biggest arrest of his career did come from a ten-year-old serving it on a platter for him though.”

“You know what, kid, I think I preferred you silent.”

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart, he’s just bitter because we keep beating him.”

“I don’t care about winning, we’re having fun.”

“Yes, that’s what people who lose always say.” Ainsley teased him.

Ainsley had been very young when Martin was arrested and she had very little memories of him. Her mother had always said it was a blessing, that remembering how good a father Martin had been to him was part of Malcolm’s problem. It confused his feelings to know how much of a bad man he is, but having memories of good times with him too. People kept telling her it was better growing up without a father than being in Malcolm’s situation. But it was wrong.

She might not remember much about Martin, but she did have memories like everyone else did of their father. Except hers were of Gil. Growing up, he was the one who was there. More like her father than anyone else. He was the one who took an interest in their family and helped Malcolm come out of his shell after Martin was taken away. He was the one who taught her how to ride a bike. He was the one she always saw in the crowd of parents next to her mother at school plays, at recitals, at graduation. Everyone thought she grew up without a father, but she always had Gil, and it was almost as good as the real thing. She loved seeing how well he and her mother were getting along now. Even when they decided to gang up on them.

“Let’s play a different game to give Gil a chance. Monopoly maybe.”

“I’m good at Monopoly.” Gil said.

“No, mom, do you not remember last time we played that?”

“Yes, I think I won.”

“You would’ve won if Malcolm hadn’t fallen asleep and destroyed the board.”

“Well, that won’t happen again. What are the chances of getting an insomniac to fall asleep on a board game twice?”

“Just don’t bankrupt me in the first half hour this time.”

“Just play better, bro.”

Jessica went to the kitchen to warm up something for dinner and Gil had to go to the bathroom, leaving Ainsley to set up the game while her brother stared down at his hands.

“Your wrist will be better soon, and you could still play all those games today, it’s not that bad.”

“I feel useless. I can’t do anything. You guys have to take care of me and do everything for me while I just sit there and watch.”

“We don’t mind doing it. That’s what you do for people you love, you help them when they’re hurt.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course, you do, Mal.”

“I don’t. People only get hurt because of their affection for me. Either by others or even by me. I’m terrible to be around, I don’t know why you all don’t just leave me alone.”

“Because you’re my big brother and I love you. I love being around you, we all do. You’re a good person, you always put others before yourself. Gil told us you kept trying to stop Martin from hurting him and you tried to get him food. You always want to help people, Mal, you deserve all the love in the world.”

He didn’t say anything else, but she could tell he didn’t believe her. He had resigned himself to their presence, maybe because he was too tired to fight them anymore, but he still didn’t think they should be there. He was still uncomfortable having people around. She moved to his side of the table and pulled him in a tight hug. He kept staring at his hands but smiled. He knew she wouldn’t give up.

As the others came back and they started playing, Malcolm kept throwing worried glances at her. He definitely wasn’t okay. He still couldn’t look at Gil directly without his tremor acting up, which hurt his wrist. All day, he’d closed himself off and stopped talking for long minutes whenever anyone brought up what had happened or even just the fact that Martin existed somewhere out there. Ainsley worried they might lose him again. He was far from okay and, yet, all he seemed to care about was making sure she was doing fine. He wanted her to be happy even if he wasn’t.

“If you keep using those eyes, I’ll have to arrest you for extortion, kid.”

Those puppy dog eyes Malcolm was so good at producing were once again used to win a negotiation against Gil. It was the only thing her brother had going for him in this game, because he was surprisingly bad at Monopoly. But that comment made him laugh. A good, long, contagious laugh. It was the first time they’d heard Malcolm laugh in weeks.

Gil put his hand on Jessica’s and tipped his head toward the others to get her to look at them. He probably thought Ainsley didn’t notice. He wanted her mother to see how happy she and Malcolm looked. They were having fun, the four of them, like any normal, happy family out there. They had been through a lot and still had plenty to deal with, but they had each other. Always had, always would. In this moment, they weren’t the wife and children of a convicted serial killer and the cop who arrested him. They were just four people who loved and cared for each other.

Like family should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this story, I'd love to hear about it in comments.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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